Undyne's blade of energy struck the ground with a roar, shaking the cavern floor of Waterfall. Steam hissed around her as she rose from the explosion, her armour shattered and her body barely holding together.
But her eye still burned.
"You… You're going to have to try a little harder than that, punk."
Frisk stood across from her, blade gleaming with the echoes of countless sins. No hesitation. No remorse. Only the cold silence of purpose.
Then she changed.
Her body shimmered with light as golden energy poured into her broken form. A storm of determination surged through her.
Undyne the Undying.
A warrior reborn through sheer will.
The fight began again—but different now. Spears faster than thought. Movements powered by something beyond strength—beyond even justice. Her very presence forced time to crawl.
Each strike from her blade was a plea: Turn back. Each dodge from Frisk a refusal: Never.
Chara was screaming.
Not with sound—but in the flurry of emotions that burst from her every flicker of movement. Her voice in Frisk's head cracked, torn between horror and disbelief.
"This isn't what I wanted. This isn't what we—what you—"
But the strikes came anyway. Undyne's heart beat louder than the drums of war. Her stance faltered—but only barely. Her soul shone like a beacon in the darkness of Frisk's path.
Frisk took hit after hit. Blood mixed with dust on the cavern floor.
Undyne shouted through the haze: "As long as there's even a sliver of hope left, I'll keep fighting!"
Another blow. Frisk staggered.
Undyne's body wavered, her form blinking in and out, but still—she stood.
"Even if you think there's nothing left to save—I'll save it anyway!"
Frisk lifted the blade one last time—only for it to clatter to the ground.
A final spear tore through the air.
Light.
Frisk collapsed.
Chara knelt beside the fallen body, silent. Her hands trembled as she reached out—stopped—then curled into fists. Her eyes were blank, broken.
"Why did you keep going…?" she whispered. "Why didn't you stop…?"
—
The rain poured harder atop Mt. Ebott. The girl gripped her book as if it were her only anchor. Her knuckles were white, her shoulders hunched.
The man across the fire watched her quietly. He said nothing. There was no comfort to give.
Then, softly, the girl raised her hands. One sign. Then another. Her eyes were wide—not with confusion this time, but realization.
The man finally nodded. "Yes… This was the end. But it wasn't the end."
—
Below, Chara's voice reached out.
"You can't give up just yet."
She wiped the tears from her eyes with a trembling hand.
"Frisk… stay determined."
A glow.
A heartbeat.
A reset.