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Dark Worlds are just an illusion of reality warped by Dark Fountains’ influence, worlds that emerge from shadowless, consuming black.
Lancer’s just a card of spades, Tenna’s the family TV. Ralsei doesn’t truly exist in the Light World, either. He never has.
By proxy, none of Kris’ conversations with them are technically real. Not the silly moments, not the vulnerable ones, none at all. Kris might think about them, but they're as tangible as sand slipping through a sieve.
And so, after each poignant, fulfilling adventure, Kris returns to the Light World with their only confidant, Susie, with the knowledge that nobody else could ever know or understand what they’ve gone through. Could ever know or understand the weight of a prophecy that spells of heroes and the world’s end bearing on their shoulders.
And so, at the end of the day, Kris returns home to their empty, brotherless bedroom, and hollow walls.
Return to their drunk mother, dancing in the living room with a skeleton they barely know. All in front of Susie, too. How embarrassing.
All in all, Kris’ simple world of going to school and doing homework has been completely overturned by magic adventures and ominous prophecies, and they’ve come to accept that.
So the eldritch entity— the SOUL— currently clacking away on Asriel’s computer keyboard should not come as a surprise either. This is normal, Kris reassures themself, as the pulsating heart floats from letter to letter.
[he only has 1 hp, kris.]
“...What?”
[i can kill him, ive done it before.]
Done it before. The SOUL is talking about Sans－ as if he’s a Darkner— and not truly real. It’s talking like real life is just another RPG-style game. Like him having “1 hp” actually means anything.
“He’s alive, though.” Kris remarks bluntly.
He’s alive, and dancing downstairs in the living room with their mother. Alive, eating their pancakes and taking up space he shouldn’t.
[parallel world?] The question mark is pressed after a small pause.
A small part of Kris wants to dismiss everything the SOUL is saying as a joke in poor taste and just go to sleep. But Kris doesn’t think it really has a reason to lie, and so that easy escape from reality flies out the window.
So the eldritch entity that is the SOUL has killed Sans in a parallel world. That’s okay, Kris rationalizes. It’s the kind of processing the brain does to stay sane. Because right now, they can’t react with any of the other thoughts circling through their head, or they really might spiral. But—
“Why?”
The SOUL’s motionless for a few seconds. Kris figures it’s finding the words for a question that may not be easy to answer. Maybe Sans had wronged it dearly in this parallel world, they justify.
Nothing prepares them for the SOUL’s answer.
[curiosity.]
“You killed Sans in a parallel world. Out of curiosity.”
[i killed everyone.]
Kris is silent. The muffled jazz music and Sans and Toriel’s laughs feel distant, like they're behind a window. Right now, nothing else matters.
Because the entity residing within Kris is a genocidal psychopath. Somehow, they think anything might’ve been a more valid reason to kill everyone than “curiosity.”
Malice. Vengeance, Hatred.
Anything. Some kind of motivation for their actions. It could have lied for Kris’ peace of mind and they would be none the wiser.
“Curiosity” is the kind of answer given by someone who kills stray cats, who pulls the wings off butterflies. The kind of answer given by someone with no empathy. That’s the most terrifying kind of being— they’re capable of anything.
“‘Everyone?’”
[monsters.]
Kris waits. The SOUL does not elaborate. No apology or remorse.
[i memorized his attack patterns. i can kill him, if you’ll let me.]
For a long moment, Kris says nothing. They just stare blankly at the text, mulling over the realization that the thing that’s been controlling them, for all their so far passivity, and even kindness, is just a detached killer.
It made Alphys her ultra-specific drink combination at church. It’s always gentle with Ralsei and Susie, even in their moments of vulnerability. Kris remembers their arms around Ralsei, the feeling of soft eiderdown in their fingers.
But in another world— maybe one just like this one— it killed every thinking, feeling being.
All just to see what would happen?
Why is it even asking for permission?
Kris can’t live without the SOUL: they’ll have to shove it back into their body eventually, face that familiar stabbing pain, feel their control slip out of reach. It can do whatever it wants then.
If it’s that easy for it, why hasn’t it hurt anyone else so far?
Susie. Ralsei. Noelle. Toriel. Lancer.
Was all its kindness just a pleasantry? A whim?
And one day, when it’s bored or curious again, will it use Kris’ body to kill them, with their puppet strings and their heart swinging on a chain? Will they really be forced to watch, helpless, behind glass eyes?
Too late to stop, too distant to scream.
Kris balls their fists, trembling. They want to grab the SOUL and squeeze until it stops pulsing. Stops its false mimicry of a human breath.
They would, if they could. If their life didn't depend on it.
“If I’ll ‘let’ you kill him?” They slam their hand onto the desk.
“What’s stopping you? Why are you even bothering to ask?"
Kris' voice is getting louder and louder until they're yelling, but it's odd. They can barely hear themselves. It's like they're underwater, their cries muted, unheard.
"You’ve already taken my body from me. My life."
Their breaths are coming quicker, like their lungs can't keep up with the fear boiling higher and hotter in their chest.
"After Sans, what’s next? You’ll hurt everyone else, out of ‘curiosity?’”
Cold, detached, childlike intrigue will be the death of them.
They spit the last word out like poison, heaving. Good thing anyone who could possibly hear them is distracted. They're drunk and dancing, and here Kris is, fearing for the lives of everyone they hold dear.
Any moment.
Any second, they could all be gone. Dusted away like Dark World monsters, except this is real life with real consequences and Susie and Ralsei and Noelle and Toriel could all be gone forever.
Kris is falling further and further into their own head, because any moment, any second, their own hands might turn red with the blood of their friends, and they'll be the one to have done it. All because of this thing's stupid whims. They'll look down and see red and it'll be their fault.
The SOUL starts typing again, more slowly, more deliberately. It’s really contemplating. They want to scoff.
[i dont want to hurt you, kris. i dont want to hurt any of you.]
[i wont. i promise.]
A pause.
[i know you have no reason to trust me. but i really, truly, just want to see you happy.]
[i wont kill sans. or anyone. it was just a thought. because i dont like him.]
[i didnt mean to scare you. im sorry.]
It’s sorry. The SOUL’s stripped Kris of their autonomy and made them a slave in their own body.
But it’s sorry for scaring them, for suggesting that it could kill Sans for them.
Kris' breathing slowly evens out, their hands unclenching at their sides.
They want to laugh. This— this entity— is the only thing that cares enough to notice how alone they are, how unheard they feel.
It probably isn’t even human.
What a life.
They stare at the screen, the artificial light in their pitch-black room, the cursor blinking like a heartbeat. Trying to reconcile this image of a cold-blooded killer with the thing that's just apologized for the most mundane mistake.
The SOUL just floats there, pulsing a little brighter, like it means anything. Like their words mean anything.
These words— are they all just because of curiosity, too?
For some reason, Kris doesn’t want to ask that question. If they hear the answer that they don't want, their heart might just break into irreparable pieces. This apology, this feeling of being a little less alone in their head— they want to bask in it for a little longer— even if it might be contrived.
Kris doesn’t believe it. Not for a second.
But they’ll have to let it back in eventually. They've long since learned that they never really had a choice in the matter.
All they can do is go to sleep and hope. Hope that when they wake up tomorrow and relinquish control of their body, that the SOUL won't decide to hurt the people they love.
Kris doesn’t give the it another chance to type, reaching to hit the power button with a finality.
They’re so tired. They spent the day defeating the manifestation of the fear of darkness— only to come home to their mother doing the jitter bug with a pancake-eating, space-stealing skeleton.
And now this.
They don’t even bother grabbing the SOUL and hurling it into its cage like they usually do.
Kris just flops onto their bed, pulling a pillow over their head to drown out the noises from the living room. As they look up at the ceiling, a faint glowing red in their periphery, and their eyes slowly drifting, they mutter,
“I hope you mean what you said.”
A breath.
“I want to believe you. For everyone’s sake.”