Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“So…” Clover adjusted his hat, tugging the brim lower over his eyes. Staring at the world around him irritated his eyes. “Feels like it’s been months since we last talked.”

The older Clover gave a small nod. “Might’ve been. Time’s... weird here. Doesn’t move the way it should.”

“...Right.”

...

Ooh boy.

Clover shifted uneasily, his boots making no sound on the ground–or whatever passed for ground here. It wasn’t solid nor liquidy, more like a in between state of those but not like gas. It felt more like a slowly pulsing pane of dull glass, faintly rippling beneath them if he tried to describe it. The horizon bled into a soft static, neither black nor white but once again something in between. Occasionally, pieces of the scenery–floating platforms, splintered clock hands, shards of mirrors–twitched and rearranged without warning.

“Where are we?” Clover asked, scanning the strange void that surrounded them.

The older version of him hummed, rubbing his chin as he stared into the glitched fragments of floating symbols nearby. “I think it’s - .... . / -.-. --- .-.. .-.. . -.-. - .. ...- . / ..- -. -.-. --- -. ... -.-. .. --- ..- ... ..--.. It matches what ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ❄︎✋︎💣︎☜︎ ✋︎💧︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ ☠︎⚐︎🕈︎📬︎ told me about, anyway.”

Clover blinked at the garbled mess of sound. It echoed, bouncing off invisible walls, the rhythm feeling almost like static crawling along his spine.

“What?”

“❄︎☟︎☜︎✋︎☼︎ ❄︎✋︎💣︎☜︎ ✋︎💧︎ ☞︎✌︎☼︎ ☹︎✌︎❄︎☜︎☼︎📬︎”

“I don’t, uh… speak whatever that is. Sorry.” He forced a chuckle, though his voice sounded muffled. 

Older Clover tilted his head, frowning slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“Nevermind.” The words were thick on his tongue. It was like something in the space was scrambling the meaning of whatever the two were talking about. Whatever this place was, it didn’t want them to understand each other fully. Clover had a strange feeling that he didn’t want to anger what this something was , it was almost a primal feeling within him.

The longer he stood here, the more it felt like he was sinking. Not physically per se, but mentally. Like the ground might give way if he thought too hard.

He looked back to the older him and forced those thoughts away. “You look pretty old.”

The older Clover scoffed. “C’mon, I’m only nineteen.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No?”

No offense, but the guy looked like those cowboys who had a large guilty conscience only decades of life could do to a person. But he guessed that he sort of looked young? His eyes were tired, his shoulders hunched–not in age per se, but in exhaustion. The dark reddish tint across his skin wasn’t from age or injury. It clung like dust, like something had burned and stained him permanently. 

“You must’ve been pretty sick before you got here.”

“Nah, Just the lighting.” His laugh was hollow, almost as if he was releasing…something than any actual amusement.

Above them, the ‘sky’ pulsed–there were no stars in the void, just symbols inverting and twisting in and out of impossible shapes. Every now and again, a flash of something distant would shudder through the fog: a child’s drawing, a blurry face, the agony and love of people. It was like the amalgamation of…well, every living being’s thoughts.

Clover felt his breath catch. The longer he stayed here, the more he felt like a mistake. Like the world itself didn’t recognize him.

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” he said, trying to ground himself. “How’d you even end up in my time?”

His older self rubbed the back of his neck. The skin there was cracked, like porcelain barely being held together with glue.

“Wasn’t supposed to.” He muttered before standing up straight. “It was meant to be someone else. They’re... occupied at the moment. Keeping things together and all.”

“I don’t understand.” Clover’s brow furrowed. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I don’t really know how any of this works,” his other said a bit too quickly. “I was just told to convince you not to kill anyone. But it turns out... I didn’t need to.”

A soft hum filled the space now. Low, constant, and grating–almost like those weird office lights back on the Surface. Clover squinted. “Huh?”

“Matter of fact, I was surprised we met at Flowey’s mindscape of all places. I thought it’d happen earlier. Like way earlier. Like near the start of our journey type of early.”

Clover blinked. “Earlier?”

“Yeah, around when we first fell into the Underground.”

“Like... before Toriel?”

“Yep.”

He didn’t get it. Why would he ever need to be talked out of hurting monsters? Sure, he’d gotten frustrated, maybe even a little hotheaded sometimes. But killing? That was never an option. That wasn’t real Justice, why would he add onto the suffering of Monsterkind?

And yet…

A pit opened in his stomach. The air around them pulsed darker, and the ‘glass’ beneath his feet clouded like stormy water instead of an inky goo, adding to the weirdness of their location. Clover clenched his fists.

“Why are you…” he stared at his older self, his eyes widening. “...What’s your LV?”

The older version stiffened. Looked away. A flicker of something—guilt or possibly regret—crossed his face.

“...Why?”

“I…” He took a deep breath, he shook his head. “You must’ve beaten Flowey to be here right?”

Clover nodded.

“He just… just wouldn’t stay down.” He slumped. “I wanted to hurt him so badly after I got all my memories back. Memories of him hurting me and my friends over and over again for the human Souls.”

Those visions that Clover were having, they weren’t his were they?

“I remembered back to when we were under his influence, when we fully gave in to our violent nature.” Older Clover shook his head. “Poor robot, Axis didn’t deserve that. But it was a good learning experience.”

“When I remembered all the previous runs…I also remembered the one where I wiped out the entire Underground.” Older Clover shook his head. “One of our friends, Axis, told me that he didn’t have a choice. I was blinded by my Justice for the humans that I… made sure he couldn't do it again.”

This, this didn’t sound familiar to Clover at all! Was his older self the true culprit to why the Dunes thought he killed monsters? ‘Am I…not supposed to be here?”

“That made me able to get Flowey into a stalemate, though I only remembered the previous runs after I killed Ceroba on the rooftop.”

“You what now?” Clover snapped. “How could you—!”

“You know she wanted to die.”

Clover opened his mouth to argue but he knew it was true. She asked him to shoot her after he defeated her, saying she had nothing else to live for. He was going to spare her regardless but…he guessed that was the what changed in his timeline from his older self. 

Older Clover sighed. “We were in that Judgment hall for the longest while before I managed to cut a deal with Flowey, I’d give up my Soul to Asgore, and he would leave Martlet and Starlo alone. Convinced him that it’d be more advantageous if he stole the human Souls when the seventh one arrived.”

“But, you only killed one monster, your LV shouldn’t have increased that much.”

He scoffed. “LoVe, I’m sure you’ve heard about it before from our ‘friend’. It’s basically how willing you are to kill or inflict harm onto others. You start out with a base of one before it grows to three, by that point you need EXP for it to rise. But since we have the ‘Justice’ Soul we’re able to rise it beyond the normal level when we have EXP.” Older Clover explained. “Hence why I had a LV of…I think eleven?”

Clover didn’t know what to say, they might’ve been the same person…but they sure didn’t share the same experience. Heck, he might even say that they’re basically two completely different people, even if they share the same Soul.

Older Clover sighed. “I came back two years later, I guess Flowey in his weird way saw us as his friend.”

“...”

“Oh!” He perked up. “You’re probably curious about other things since the last time we spoke I was pretty cryptic.” He dramatically slid his hand over his hat. “We get to live seven more years, ain’t that exciting? Oh! We also get to date royalty after they also got revived, about a year earlier than us after the barrier broke. Oh that happened too.”

‘Oh my god, this guy’s insane.’ Clover continued to stare at the man in disbelief. ‘Wait I date royalty?’ The only one around his age was…

Oh.

So it was possible…

“...And then we all got erased from existence.”

…

Way to drop a bombshell.

“What?!”

“Don’t worry about it, the events that I experienced will never happen again since my timeline no longer exists in this universe.”

“PLEASE EXPLAIN MORE?!?”

“Eh, I didn’t really understand it when Alphys explained it to me before I came here. She said the way our timelines path worked was like water. It absorbed a certain path, ignoring the others, creating branching paths.”

“No!” Clover was exasperated. “I mean how did your timeline get erased?!”

“Oh.” Clover scratched the side of his head. “People just gave into despair, it's kind of hard to explain a concept.”

“It can’t be that hard!”

“Eh…It sort of is.” His older self responded bluntly. “So basically 🕈︎☜︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎☠︎🕯︎❄︎ 💧︎🕆︎🏱︎🏱︎⚐︎💧︎☜︎👎︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ☜︎✠︎✋︎💧︎❄︎📪︎ ☹︎✋︎😐︎☜︎📪︎ ✌︎❄︎ ✌︎☹︎☹︎📬︎ 🕈︎☜︎🕯︎☼︎☜︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ ☜︎✞︎☜︎☠︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 🏱︎☼︎✋︎💣︎☜︎ 🕆︎☠︎✋︎✞︎☜︎☼︎💧︎☜︎ 💧︎✋︎☠︎👍︎☜︎ ✌︎☹︎💣︎✌︎ 💣︎✌︎☠︎✌︎☝︎☜︎👎︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 👎︎⚐︎ 💧︎⚐︎💣︎☜︎ 🕈︎☜︎✋︎☼︎👎︎ ❄︎✋︎💣︎☜︎ ❄︎☟︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ 👍︎⚐︎💣︎🏱︎☹︎☜︎❄︎☜︎☹︎✡︎ 👍︎☟︎✌︎☠︎☝︎☜︎👎︎ ⚐︎🕆︎☼︎ ☟︎✋︎💧︎❄︎⚐︎☼︎✡︎📬︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 🏱︎✋︎💧︎💧︎☜︎👎︎ ⚐︎☞︎☞︎ ✌︎ 👌︎☜︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ 🕈︎☟︎⚐︎ ☼︎☜︎💧︎✋︎👎︎☜︎💧︎ ✋︎☠︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 👍︎⚐︎☹︎☹︎☜︎👍︎❄︎✋︎✞︎☜︎ 🕆︎☠︎👍︎⚐︎☠︎💧︎👍︎✋︎⚐︎🕆︎💧︎📪︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎✡︎ ☜︎☼︎✌︎💧︎☜︎👎︎ ⚐︎🕆︎☼︎ 🕈︎⚐︎☼︎☹︎👎︎ 👌︎🕆︎❄︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ❄︎✋︎💣︎☜︎☹︎✋︎☠︎☜︎📬︎ ✌︎ 👍︎☜︎☼︎❄︎✌︎✋︎☠︎ ☟︎🕆︎💣︎✌︎☠︎ 🕈︎✋︎❄︎☟︎ ✌︎ ☹︎✞︎ □︎♐︎ 📂︎ ✋︎💧︎ ☟︎⚐︎☹︎👎︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ✋︎❄︎ ❄︎⚐︎☝︎☜︎❄︎☟︎☜︎☼︎ ✌︎❄︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 💣︎⚐︎💣︎☜︎☠︎❄︎📬︎ ✋︎ 🕈︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎👎︎🕯︎✞︎☜︎ ☟︎☜︎☹︎🏱︎☜︎👎︎ 👌︎🕆︎❄︎ ✋︎ 👍︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎👎︎☠︎🕯︎❄︎ ☝︎☜︎❄︎ 🏱︎✌︎💧︎💧︎☜︎👎︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 👌︎✌︎☼︎☼︎✋︎☜︎☼︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ❄︎☟︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ 👍︎☼︎☜︎✌︎❄︎☜︎👎︎📬︎”

“Stop!” Clover held a hand out. “Just…give me a second to process what you just said.”

“Okay.”

Okay, okay! Running down what he just said… or at least the parts he understood…

Firstly, he’s an older version of himself from a now erased future who came back somehow to tell him to not kill others. Secondly, his LV is really high, high enough to stalemate Flowey. Thirdly, he didn’t experience what Clover experienced since he needed to get revived by…Flowey? So somehow Flowey or something else managed to get Seven Human Souls and broke the barrier whilst reviving him and other humans in the process. Fourthly, they committed an entire genocide and remembered it during a timeline branching moment from Ceroba.

God this time stuff is really hurting his head. There were so many different timelines to keep track of…

And most importantly that they somehow got with Chara of all people. They weren’t opposed to it! Chara was already someone special in their life, they just didn’t think it would turn into…

Wait, they were getting distracted.

They let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“Alrighty, so basically this—”

A blinding light lit up the entirety of the void they were in.

“Oh, it found us.”

“What found us?!”

“It’s the–”

They couldn’t hear anything as an intense ringing blared in their ears. They looked around to make sense of…something! But they could only see a small saloon in the distance surrounded by a huge lake. A large bell sat on top of the building.

Then they were nothing.

“Are you shittin’ me!?” The burly captain roared at the two well-dressed strangers. His voice carried across the docks. “I take the privacy of my customers seriously! I ain’t about to let my passengers get harassed by yer baseless investigation! Ain’t no way a terrorist is on me ship. I looked every one of ‘em in the eye, and not a soul’s got the guts to be somethin’ like that.”

The woman in the black suit didn’t flinch. Calmly, she produced a badge and held it forward.
“This is an authorized co-operation between PSIA and the USU . I advise you to comply. You wouldn’t want… something unfortunate to happen.”

“Why I oughta—!” The captain’s fists clenched as his face turned red.

Theron sighed from the upper deck. Two months had passed since they boarded the boat, but the emptiness still lingered. It didn’t feel real that he wasn’t here anymore–the man who’d been like a fa–mentor to them.

Some mornings they could still  hear his voice echoing through the morning air. Bringing them back to a time in their home during the start of their day. The way they would grumble about routine chores and tease him about his “killer moustache” maintenance.

Back then, it had been something normal, something that couldn’t be taken away. Now? They’d give anything to hear it again.

They missed him.

But remembering the past wouldn’t help. The agents weren’t here for just anyone.

They were here for Wildfire.

Theron glanced toward the city. If they reformed the ground beneath the ocean, they could slip away underwater–soaked, but concealed. It was risky, but it beat being gunned down on the dock.

…Wait.

Was that… a fox?

Hovering above the water, kimono trailing like mist, its form flickering strangely between human and a beast. A yōkai? The kind from old legends? Theron blinked hard, but it didn’t vanish.

“What the…?”

So the legends were true.

“There she is!” one of the agents barked, pointing directly at Theron.

Their jaw tightened. They weren’t a she. No matter how many times they corrected people, no one ever cared about who they were, only what they looked like on the surface.

It didn’t matter at the moment. What mattered was survival.

Theron vaulted over the railing and landed hard on the port. They had the tactical advantage. The first strike!

“Oh crap!” one of the agents cursed, fumbling with their holster.

‘Kill on sight, huh? Figures.’ They’d been treated like trash before. They had hoped at least this time someone would try to listen.

Too late for that.

Theron’s Soul pulsed, the orange glow burning hot in their chest. Heat rolled off them in waves, radiating across the dock. The concrete beneath their feet shimmered as if caught in the haze of a burning furnace!

Then they moved.

The ground split under their command, jagged spikes of concrete surging upward. One tore through an agent’s arm before he could even draw his weapon.

“W-we need backup! Now!” the woman shouted into her radio.

Too slow~.

Theron dashed forward, each step hammering the pavement, their momentum almost unstoppable. The air around their fist ignited with raw force before slamming into her face. She crumpled instantly, body hitting the dock with a sharp crack.

The other agent had staggered back, clutching his bleeding arm, but Theron didn’t let up. They pressed forward, reshaping the dock in quick bursts—walls of stone forcing the man back, spikes jabbing whenever he faltered.

“Keep up the heat! Don’t give them room to breathe!”

Their mentor’s words echoed in their head. “Never hesitate, they won’t hesitate to harm you!” 

The captain stared, eyes wide. “What… are you?”

Theron didn’t answer right away. Their Soul had left traces of itself in the air, like embers in the wind.

Finally, they looked down at the broken agents. “I’m nobody worth knowing.”

Without another glance, Theron turned toward the city. Every step carried them deeper into either their salvation, or another hostile encounter. They needed to disappear before the Black Suits came.

…

…

…

“I can’t believe they dragged us out here to hunt for some kid…” a black suit muttered as he patrolled the empty street. “They even got the whole city on a lockdown.”

His partner shot him a look. “Did you even read her file?”

“No? Were we supposed to?”

“Of course we were you moron!”

Theron exhaled through their nose, pressed flat against the wooden plank concealing them. This was getting ridiculous. They had planned to leave the city as soon as they arrived, but within hours the streets had been crawling with agents.

Were they really such a big threat? They were only one person after all.

Regardless, the longer they lingered, the greater the risk of them being captured.

They slipped the plank aside, darted across the street, and ducked into a narrow alley. Their heart pounded with each step. They’d been avoiding patrols for an entire day, shadows stretching and shrinking with the passing hours. A real pain.

Sure, they could fight. They could beat down every last one of these black suits if they wanted to. But the cost would be too high, the mental strain and the Soul exhaustion that would come with it would leave them in a vulnerable state to be unable to use their special ability.

No. It was safer to avoid fights altogether.

Theron pressed deeper into the alley, the darkness thick and damp. Their breath clouded faintly in the cold air, though the night was warm. Something wasn’t right.

“Oh my~.”

The voice drifted from above–feminine, smooth , yet threaded with something sharp. The full moon lit the rooftops, but its light bent around the figure instead of revealing her.

“Seems to me you’re quite the troublemaker.”

Theron froze, every muscle tight. “…Who are you?”

“An ally? A friend? Perhaps.”

“…You’re not with the Black Suits, are you?”

A low chuckle echoed throughout the alley. “ Black suits? Is that what you’ve been calling them?”

“Who else would they be?” Theron muttered.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter what you call them.”

A ripple shimmered through the air, and then she appeared. A kitsune–tall, graceful, with fur as white as snow and dull red eyes that gleamed like dying embers. Sharp teeth curved in a smile that was equal parts alluring and dangerous. An unsettling beauty radiated from her presence, undeniable and inhuman.

“We share a common enemy,” she said, her singular tail flickering behind her like living smoke. “So I suggest we form an alliance.”

Theron stared, speechless for a beat. The stories were true, yōkai weren’t just mere legends whispered in their homeland–they were real.

“Why should I trust you?”

The kitsune’s smile widened. “Because if you don’t, I’ll have to get rid of you.”

Theron nearly laughed. She might land the first strike, but with their ability to Save and Load, they were as close to invincible as it got. Still… she was serious.

“Fine.” Theron straightened. “It wouldn't hurt to have a yōkai on my side.”

The kitsune chuckled, melodic and mocking. “Yōkai… I almost forgot humans still used that word.” Her eyes gleamed like embers in the dark as she leaned closer, uncomfortably close “I trust that you won’t slow me down…?”

“Theron. Theron Zeppeli.”

“Rava.” Her eyes gleamed as she bowed her head slightly. “Rava Kitsune. May our partnership bear a very… very promising future.”

…

…

…

It turned out teaming with Rava was useful. More PSIA agents had flooded the city, but the kitsune’s strange craft kept them hidden. The “barrier,” as she called it, bent light away from them like water slipping past stone, making them invisible to everyone outside of it.

Yet walking so casually down the road while agents prowled every corner left Theron’s skin crawling. Black vans idled at intersections, their tinted windows watching like lidless eyes. Boots scuffed along the sidewalks in coordinated patrols. Radios crackled with clipped voices. Every sound felt magnified in Theron’s ears, like one wrong step would shatter the fragile protection and bring the entire swarm down on them.

Maybe they were getting too confident. Believing that they could take on what was essentially a small army.

The weapons didn’t help their thoughts about it either. When Theron had been a street orphan, they’d overheard rumors of new PSIA gear–strange, compact things that could “lock someone in place” instantly. Fairy tales for keeping kids in line is what they’d thought about it back then. But now those weapons gleamed in the agents’ hands, used on anyone caught breaking curfew. And that was just for curfew violators. The thought of what they’d unleash on someone marked as kill-on-sight made their stomach twist.

“Goodness.” Rava’s voice floated at their side, too amused and far too calm. She smiled faintly as her red eyes drifted across the agents. “Is this how you treat your fellow kind?”

The mockery in her tone almost made Theron flinch. “Not all of them,” they muttered.

Her gaze lingered a second too long on them. Her words came out softer and more formal, almost like a chant. “Such cruelty stains the spirit of those who participate in it.”

The more time Theron spent near Rava, the more unnerved they became. She looked their age–maybe a little older–but her presence radiated something ancient, a weight of experience heavier than anything a normal person could carry. Each step beside her felt like brushing against a force that had seen far too much.

It reminded them of—

Theron clenched their jaw and shook their head. No. No use thinking about him. That night had been a mistake, saving over their file after that fight. They cursed themself for being so reckless. For erasing the only chance they had of going back. ’God, I’m such a moron.’

Their eyes flicked back to Rava. Was whatever this was desperation? Immediately siding with a yōkai they knew nothing about, just because she’d dangled the word “alliance” in front of them? Sure, they could always undo it… But the hesitation building in their chest told them something else, they weren’t sure they wanted to be alone again.

“The railroads,” Rava said suddenly, as if reading their thoughts. “If we follow them, we can avoid most of these ‘Black Suits.’”

Theron frowned. “You mean take a freight train.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “I wasn’t aware you knew how to operate a train.”

“Yeah, I can’t do that.”

She nodded. “A-ah, yes, I suppose that’s not to be unexpected. Then let us sneak into one of the carts.

Theron exhaled through their nose. She wasn’t wrong, It’d be safer to sneak away quietly than to fight. But their knuckles itched with the urge to fight. Each black-suited agent they passed was another reminder of how powerless they were against sheer numbers. Restraint had never been their strong suit, and the pressure was eating at them.

…And if that person showed up again, Theron wasn’t sure they’d be able to hold back at all.

…

…

…

“Y-you monster…!” An agent staggered back, clutching their arm.

The duo had reached the rail yard at last. But seeing it so lifeless was…strange to say the least.

Engines rumbled somewhere deep within, and the air carried the tang of iron and oil. Freight cars stood lined up next to each other, their wheels ticking faintly with cooling metal. Tools and helmets had been left on crates, no doubt from them being forced to stay inside. as if the.  No voices called, no footsteps echoed. The silence between any sounds was too far in between. It felt less like a yard full of labor and more like a stage emptied of its actors.

Theron wordlessly put the Black Suit down. No sense wasting their Soul’s power on just one person.

Before they deviate from their original path due to Rava, the agents had been waiting along the exact path Theron would’ve taken alone. It was almost as if they had known their plan. 

Guess they hadn’t accounted for someone actually helping. Even if that someone was a yōkai.

“You are so crude.” Rava stepped up beside them, the faint shimmer of her barriers flickering out. She claimed they drew too much from her reserves—too much magic, whatever that meant.  “That human is barely clinging to life.” A green flame spun from her paw and struck the agent, wounds knitting closed with an eerie hum.

“So? Not our problem.” Theron glanced down at the man, watching his face smooth from bloodied ruin to something startlingly ordinary. “They signed up for this. They’re trying to kill us anyway, wouldn’t even hesitate.”

“Is mercy not among the virtues of humankind?”

“And you learned this…how exactly?”

“My home. Or rather, what it once was.” Her ears twitched. “But mankind’s progress would have consumed me in time. A shame… I was fond of those villagers.”

That tracked, Theron supposed. If the Black Suits were hunting them for being strange, Rava never would have stood a chance.

Speaking of which…

“I’ve been meaning to ask. Since you’re a yōkai–how many of those myths are actually real?”

A piercing screech rang through the yard as the kitsune hauled open the door of a cargo container. Metal groaned like something waking from sleep.

“All of them,” she said simply. Her tone shifted, they were clearly unamused. “Though we are not truly ‘yōkai,’ as you insist on calling us.” She gestured them inside.

“What?”

“Let me explain. Long ago, two races upon this earth lived in harmony, for countless years until…”

The humans struck without warning. I cannot say why. Perhaps it was tied to the prophecy… the one that spoke of Godhood.

Monsterkind was unprepared. Within the first year, half of our people had been totally and completely eradicated. The King himself tried to hold the line, but even his strength could not stand against the hatred of humanity. At last, he ordered an evacuation–what survivors remained were taken west.

Her gaze drifted toward the rusted rails that were left behind from the train’s building, as though she could still see the trail of fleeing souls.

In their haste, many were abandoned–myself among them. We were left to fend for ourselves on a continent that desired our extinction. Some vanished into the forests. Others sought refuge in the ocean’s depths. A few… simply perished.

A faint, humorless smile touched her lips.

In time, our kind dwindled into little more than whispers. Simple myths. Tales told to frighten children into obedience. Pathetic, is it not? That an entire race could be driven to ruin by a single fear.

Her eyes narrowed, distant, remembering.

No one knows what became of the Monster Kingdom. Some claim they were sealed away, far to the north, buried beneath a mountain…

Her voice hushed, reverent, as though speaking a forbidden name:

“A mountain called— 

MOUNT EBOTT.”

“All those myths about…”

“Yes, most if not all are true.” Rava’s tone was even, though her ears twitched with irritation.“But humans have a way of… dressing truth in grandeur. Imagination makes monsters become more frightful then a true depiction of them.”

…

It was a lot to take in. Monsters—an entire race—had lived openly a thousand years ago, only to be nearly wiped out. All because humanity feared they might ascend to gods.

Theron glanced at Rava as she slid the train car door shut with a dull clang.

Just how old was she?

“Hey… you can shapeshift into a human, right? Since you’re a kitsune?”

Rava arched a brow, one ear flicking. “I can. But it brings me strain. The form is… uncomfortable.” Her gaze lingered on them, curious. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.”

They leaned back against the cold steel wall. Truly, nothing in their life can ever be normal.

…

…

…

“Mount Ebott, huh?” Theron said aloud, pulling a strand of hay from their bow. “You said the rest of monsterkind is holed up there?”

“Correct. That is… if the rumors are true.” Rava’s gaze lingered on the rattling wall as the train lurched forward, steel wheels humming along the tracks.

They had long since left the city behind. But the sense of pursuit remained. The Black Suits weren’t fools—Theron knew they’d have agents posted across the country, checkpoints and traps lying in wait. For a terrorist, they were going to great lengths for them.

…

“Hey.” Theron shifted, keeping their voice low against the rhythm of the train. “How long have you been alive for?”

Rava chuckled softly, a warm yet sharp sound. “How bold.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no.” She waved a paw, the faint glow of her fire casting shadows across the rattling car. “If we’re traveling together, it’s only fair that I share some of my story. For the sake of… our partnership.”

“Right.”

She drew in a slow breath. “Alright, then. I suppose it began with a child...”

“Where are we going?” The child’s voice quivered as the ground shuddered, violent rumbles rolling through the night. Her mother clutched her close, eyes darting to the walls as if they might collapse in on them at any moment.

“It doesn’t matter. We need to leave now,” she whispered, calm masking terror.

The door burst open. Her father staggered inside, voice hoarse with urgency. “The back! Leave through the—!”

The darkness took him before he could finish.

“Oh, Angel—”

…

“They call the mages heroes,” Rava said quietly. “But all I remember are the innocent consumed from the war.”

The child fled east. Alone. Her mother never made it past the village–felled by one of the human mages mid-flight. The hard-headed one. She never learned of their name. But the memory of their Soul–burning with hatred so fierce it seemed to sear the very air they breathed–remained etched in her mind.

Eventually, the child reached the sea.

“The humans of the East did not act with the same fervor as those in the West,” she went on. “But hesitation is not innocence. Their silence permitted the slaughter.”

Did you know? A monster’s magic can ‘awaken’ under great duress. Rarely, for despair is heavier than hope. Yet grief can temper magic sharper than steel.

For the girl, magic was second nature. And so was survival.

She crossed the sea on that alone–fleeing a land that had already decided she should not exist.

“...Then I ended up in farmland and some village elders took me in.”

Theron tried not to scoff. Legends of monsters were bedtime stories–magic nothing more than fairy tales. People couldn’t just conjure fire out of thin air. And yet… it would explain a lot. Their father– no, that man–always said they were different.

“Humanity and their need to advance,” Rava sighed.

Theron tilted their head. The government had been planning to raze forests back home for industry. All for the sake of keeping up with the global world, apparently they were becoming more united, there were talks of creating a nation that united all of them. Don’t ask them how that would work, they never bothered to look into it.

“It wasn’t worth staying there anymore,” she continued. “I couldn’t leave my shrine without almost being spotted.”

“So where are you going now?”

She gave a small smile. “To Mount Ebott, the last remnants of monsters.”

Theron blinked. It made sense for them to go there actually, they didn't know why they didn't think of that. And truthfully they wished to go there as well, while they did want revenge against the Black Suits, survival had to come first. They muttered under their breath, “That director…”

“Director?”

Theron’s jaw tightened. “That’s right, you haven’t run into them have you?”

“I don’t recall ever meeting the director of the PSIA or USU, no.”

“USU?”

“A new organization. Just a few months old.” She tilted her head. “The internet is fascinating for that kind of thing.”

Theron clenched their fists. “Elias Asher. That’s the one. They hunt people like me.”

“How come?”

“My Soul is…unusual, to other humans.”

“Ah that right, you’re able to wield magic.” Rava murmured. “Unlike the other humans who remain unawakened.”

Theron nodded grimly before pausing. “Unawakened?”

“Hm?” She tilted her head. “You don’t know? All humans are able to—”

The train shrieked. Metal screamed. Both were thrown to the floor as the world pitched sideways.

“What the—?!” Theron slammed against the wall.

“Odd…” Rava muttered, then her arms flared with light. A shimmering barrier snapped into existence a heartbeat before a barrage of gunfire shredded the car. Dust and shrapnel whirled as seats, luggage, and steel tore apart around them.

“You’re kidding me!” Theron shouted, coughing. “How’d they even—!”

“Stop.” The voice was sharp, commanding, and unmistakable. Boots crunched across the wreckage.

Theron froze. That voice haunted them. The Director.

“D-did we get ‘em?!” one of the black suits called.

“I’d be surprised if we didn’t,” came the same cold voice. A figure stepped onto the wreck, sharp eyes scanning. “Though the lack of blood is… concerning. ”

Theron’s heart froze. It was her. The woman who’d been hunting them for the better part of a year. Elias Asher.

“Director Asher,” another voice chuckled as a man climbed up beside her. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“Cut the sarcasm,” Asher snapped, her glare pinning him. “Don’t forget who your superior is.”

Theron blinked. ‘Superior?’

They glanced at Rava–her body trembled against the strain of the barrier.

The man wagged a finger lazily. “Careful now, this isn’t your little island anymore Director. You’re in my jurisdiction.”

“…Excuse me?”

Theron scanned the wreckage. Black Suits swarmed all around, their weapons trained tight. Behind, the other train cars had been silently detached. They hadn’t even noticed.

The man smirked. “Relax, we wouldn’t want to cause another international incident, would we?”

Asher scoffed. “I thought the USU took itself seriously. But no–I should’ve known better. Especially after your foolish agency made the critical error of handing a monster a human Soul. With a trait, no less.”

The man’s expression remained light. “It solved the our problems, didn’t it?”

Her voice was like ice. “No. Because we still have a time bender on our hands.”

Rava’s head snapped toward Theron.

Theron quickly raised a hand. Questions could wait–they needed an exit, fast.

The man laughed. “Time bender? Really? The last case like that was two years ago–that’s why the USU exists. Halcyon was trouble, sure, but a time bender? Don’t make me laugh.”

“How foolish of you.” Asher’s eyes swept the wreck. “Regardless, it’s clear we’ve been tricked. That monster and Wildfire should’ve been here.”

“Wow, it’s almost as if they aren’t stupid enough to take a train out of the city.”

Theron’s lip curled. They already hated this man.

Asher cursed under her breath. “Damn it, I could’ve sworn—”

Rava suddenly sagged into Theron’s shoulder, her barrier phasing out. “I’m sorry… I can’t…”

“Hey! Isn’t that them?!” a Black Suit shouted.

The man scoffed. “We’re not blind, idiot. We would’ve noticed if—” His eyes widened. “ …Holy shit.”

Theron’s heart hammered. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die. When the final moments of your story come to a close, the mind does everything it can to cope with that—

“Whoa there.” A man waved his hand with a crooked grin. “Where’s this coming from?”

“A-ah, sorry. I saw it in one of your readings, sir.” Theron’s words tumbled out too quickly. They’d been living with him for two months now, and every day still felt like it could be their last under his roof. They liked having a bed. They didn’t want to lose it.

“The one about Souls?” Marek Zeppeli chuckled, settling back in his chair. “I thought anything other than fighting disinterested you. Aren’t you just full of surprises?”

Theron felt heat creep up their face. “I g-guess, sir.”

He groaned. “Don’t call me sir, please. Makes me feel old.”

“Sorry, sir.” The word slipped out again before they could stop it. Their eyes darted to the floor, shame pooling in their chest.

“Guess we’ll have to work on that.” Marek sighed, then rose from his chair and went to the bookshelf lining one wall. The spines were worn, dust clinging to them. The place wasn’t abandoned, but it carried the quiet air of a man who lived more in his memories than the present. He plucked out a hefty tome and tossed it over. “Here. Read this. It’s about those Greek guys in the old ages. Might even help you with your fighting—your Soul’s pretty different from the rest.”

Theron fumbled, clutching it too tightly once it was in their hands. The pages crackled when they opened it at random. Bold letters swam in front of them, unrecognizable scratches that mocked them. “Um…”

“Hm?” Marek tilted his head. “Something wrong?”

“I can’t…um.”

Realization flickered in his eyes, followed by a grin. “What, being a street rat kept you from learning your letters?”

Theron glared at him, jaw tight. That look had been enough to shut people up before.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’re adorable when you’re mad.” Marek ruffled their hair, and Theron froze. 

No one else had ever said that. No one had dared touch them like that either–not without cruelty behind it. Theron froze, then tried to mask the warmth burning in their chest. Against their will they blurted, “Do that again.”

He blinked. “What?”

“The hair thingy…?” They shuffled their feet, embarrassment clawed at them. “It helps…with fighting I think?”

Marek chuckled, humoring them with another ruffle. “You’re ridiculous.” Marek’s tone softened as he leaned over the book. “Let’s see…ah, Hermes. The god of merchants, travelers, and thieves. He was famous for his speed.”

“His speed?”

“Yup. Pretty friggin’ fast. See? Little wings on his ankles.”

“That’s stupid.”

Marek sputtered. “W-well maybe he wanted to be stylish, you know?”

Theron scoffed. Why would anyone want to be fast? Power was where it was at. Speed was only good for running away.

Still…

“Can you…help me read the rest?” Their voice came out quieter than they meant for it to.

He blinked, then smiled. “Sure, but we’re about to start your training soon.”

Theron huffed. “I don’t need it.”

“I’d rather you not splatter someone in front of a crowd,” Marek said flatly.

“It’s their fault for being weak!”

He raised a brow. “Aren’t you a little wildfire? But listen–no killing. Otherwise there’s no reading.”

“...Fine.”

His stupid mustache twitched as he smirked, always telling them what they could or couldn’t do. Not that they’d really kill anyone. 

…Probably.

“Anyways, Hermes. Let’s go through a story or two.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, and before I forget–no rice crackers after training.”

“What!?”

“Maybe that’ll teach you not to think to trample the weak,” he said.

Theron narrowed their eyes and stepped closer, lips baring slightly.

“Don’t you dare!” Marek barked, pointing. “I still have marks from last time you bit me!”

Biting? They would never. They just…tripped. Right near his arm.

Still, something about his laughter, his scolding, even his dumb rules–it made their chest feel warm in a way that wasn’t bad. They didn’t have to fear speaking here.

…That and being a little bit of a handful.

“I’ll extend it to two days!” Marek cried out as they got closer!

The bastard!

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die. When the final moments of your story come to a close, the mind does everything it can to cope with the inevitable.

But for Theron, it wasn’t a flash. It felt as though time itself was slowing down.

“Fire the plasma weapons now!” Asher barked to the Black Suits.

“Are you insane!?” the man beside her shouted. “That’ll kill us both!”

“She needs to go down!”

That Director.

The one who had forced them into this life. The one who made them hurt others just to justify hurting them. All for being born different. All for existing.

Theron never wanted any of this.

They caught Rava’s expression–calm, almost eerily so–but the fear in her eyes betrayed her.

-5 HP

Their Soul burst from their chest, glowing a fierce orange. It pulsed in rhythm with their rage.

-10 HP

Their body felt lighter . Maybe… maybe those dusty old books Marek made them read hadn’t been for nothing after all.

-20 HP

That Director.

The world slowed to a crawl. Flames crackled in silence. Their heartbeat drowned out the noise. Every step closer made the fury burn hotter, it felt intoxicating. The closer to death they came, the more stronger they felt.

They stood before Asher at last. So small. So defenseless-looking. But Theron knew better.

“You…” their voice shook with rage, “RUINED MY LIFE!”

Time snapped back.

“When did she—!?”

“Director!”

Theron’s fist came down, blazing with such violence that the debris around them ignited.

…

…?

The strike never landed.

“Close one,” a voice said coolly. A man stood between them, his hand veined with a dark, bluish energy. “Real close.”

“What did you—!”

“The fire’s spreading! We can’t stay here or we’ll burn to death!” a Black Suit shouted.

Asher stumbled back, regaining her composure. “We’ll lose our chance to end this now! Don’t falter!”

The forest lit up in flame, heat curling the air around them. Everything was coming to a boil.

The man scoffed. “I hate these soulbearers.”

Asher withdrew a notepad, its surface glowing a sickly purple. “You act like we aren’t ones too.”

“You know we aren’t–wait–I thought you hated my snarky remarks?”

“Not now.”

“R-right.” The man drew a dagger, the same bluish energy rippling along its edge.

Theron glanced at Rava, now steady at their side.

“Can you fight?”

“Y-yeah, but your Soul—” her eyes widened. “It’s—”

-2 HP

“What!?” Theron quickly scanned their Soul.

Theron Zeppeli HP: 43/80

LV: 8 EXP: 300

It’s your own Soul. You feel empowered by standing up to the ones who’ve harmed you.

Status: Poisoned (18s)

A brawl was inevitable.

“It burns! H-help, someone—!” a Black Suit screamed, swallowed by the fire.

+20 EXP

Theron refused to acknowledge it. They needed to focus on their fight.

“Ugh…” Clover groaned as his eyes cracked open. “The heck happened…?”

Blinding light filled his vision.

‘Wait, light?’

As his sight adjusted, he realized it wasn’t the place Halcyon was at, but the rough-hewn ceiling beams of the Wild East ‘Clinic.’ The place smelled faintly of herbs and wood polish, though under it all was that sharp tang of alcohol and medicine. Swelterstone light leaked through crooked shutters, striping the floorboards in pale gold. Somewhere nearby he could hear the lazy tick of a clock.

He tried sitting up, only to find something pinning him down. Looking down, he spotted the culprit–Kanako, slumped across his chest fast asleep.

“…Oh.” His chest tightened. She must’ve been here the whole time. Watching over him, worrying. He frowned, she’d definitely seen him in a pretty bad state.

He ran a hand over his arm, bracing for pain… and found only a long scar? His brows shot up in confusion “Huh, would ya look at that? Guess she must’ve tired herself healing me.” He glanced at Kanako. “…Thanks,” he muttered under his breath. Not that she could hear him. She was definitely going to kill him when she woke up anyway.

Regardless…that memory.

It hadn’t been fragments this time. It was one long, unbroken stream. Theron–a fighter, orphaned twice, and was hunted as a Soulbearer. Then Rava–on the surface, somehow? And two more Soulbearers who were very much adults. Which made zero sense, considering the whole ‘only seven Soulbearers existing with them all being minors.’

“Aw man, I feel a headache growing…” Clover groaned, rubbing his temple. “Feels like I’m forgetting something important…”

…

“…Nah. That couldn’t be.” He was pretty sure he couldn’t forget anything anymore considering that he wasn’t being used by Flowey anymore. It still made him feel uncomfortable knowing that technically he had been in the Underground for years stuck in a timeloop by Flowey. At least he didn’t remember any of the runs, he would have for sure done something beyond insane to try to break out of it.

His eyes drifted back to Kanako. She looked way too peaceful, the faint glow of morning catching in her hair. Which only made him more nervous. She was going to wake up and remember he’d gone and nearly gotten himself killed within a hour after making that “being more careful” promise.

He was doomed.

“Ooh boy…” he muttered. Still, he reached out and gave her a gentle shake. “Hey, wake up.”

She mumbled into his shirt, “F…ve… more mi..tes.” He noticed that his clothes had been swapped out for a sailors uniform. A shame, he actually really liked the yellow outfit.

Sensing that she wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon he flopped back down onto the bed and  stared at the wood-beam ceiling, the tick of the clinic clock filling the silence. “Welp. Guess I’ll just… lie here and wait in regret ‘til she’s ready to yell at me.”

Well… at least he had some time to think. His thoughts drifted to Chara, and what they would’ve said if they saw him like this. Probably something witty, some sharp little jab about him being an idiot who couldn’t stay out of trouble.

…But if he really thought about it, they wouldn’t just laugh. They’d more likely be mad–furious, even–that he’d let himself get hurt this badly.

“You’re actually insane,” Clover deadpanned as he watched Chara crouch by the museum’s back door working the lock “I can’t believe you convinced me to break the law.”

Chara snickered without looking up. “Calm down. If we get caught, I’ll just use my royal status to get us out of it.”

“But that’s wrong!” Clover whispered harshly, glancing nervously over his shoulder at the empty streets of New Home.

They sighed. “It’s not like we’re actually doing anything illegal, Clover.” The lock gave a crisp click, and Chara pushed the door open with a grin. “Besides, it’s just my dad. So, you know–familial prank stuff.”

“I… guess?” Clover muttered, trailing after them into the dark. The heavy door shut behind him with a dull thud, making him flinch.

The air inside was cooler and carried the faint smell of old…museum stuff. Their footsteps echoed far louder than he’d like, bouncing off marble pillars and glass display cases. 

Chara had written him an express letter telling him to meet them in New Home’s park. He hadn’t even thought of saying no–he liked spending time with them too much. What he hadn’t expected was being roped into a prank on Asgore’s statue.

“Hurry up,” Chara hissed, crouching low and tugging him by the sleeve. “And stay quiet. If the nightwatch catches us it’ll ruin the plan.”

Oh, did he mention it was the middle of the night? And that he may or may not have snuck out just to see them?

…What?

“You see those pillars?” Chara whispered, pointing. “If we climb them, we’ll end up on the walkway near the ceiling. I’ll boost you, then you pull me up.”

Clover nodded, though his stomach twisted. He clutched the strap of his satchel–already stuffed with ridiculous supplies Chara had shoved at him earlier. Paint, cotton balls, and a giant piece of tin foil, all for reasons they refused to explain.

He crouched, letting Chara brace him with both hands. The stone was cold under his palms as he scrambled up, nearly slipping on the polished surface. Dust coated his fingers by the time he reached the ledge. He stretched down to help—

“Hgnh…!” Pain flared sharp across his side. He hissed, jerking back instinctively and dropping Chara.

“What’s wrong?” Their whisper cut sharp through the dark, filled with worry.

“Sorry I dropped you,” Clover muttered, clutching his waist. “It’s just… my side. I haven’t fully healed from that.”

Chara’s eyes narrowed, glowing faintly red as they tilted their head back to look at him. Easy to get lost in those eyes, even in a place like this. Sometimes he had to remind himself to breathe when they caught him like that.

“You haven’t been skipping clinic visits, have you? That should’ve accelerated your healing process.” Their tone sharpened. “I know the Wild East doctor’s not the most qualified, but—”

“…Define skipping.”

Their jaw clenched. “When I get up there—”

“It’s fine,” Clover cut in quickly. “Just a little pain. Anyway, let me try again.”

Chara hummed suspiciously, but grabbed his hand anyway. With effort, he hauled them up.

“Now,” Chara said firmly, once steady on the ledge, “let me see it.”

“…What?”

“Your waist. Lift the side of your shirt.”

“Oh.” Clover hesitated but complied, tugging the fabric up.

“…Angel above.” Chara’s face pinched. “It’s completely bruised. Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugged weakly. “Honestly, I thought the scar looked kinda cool with it.”

Chara pinched the bridge of their nose. “I swear, it’s like you enjoy being hurt.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Whatever.” They suddenly formed a mischievous smile. “I’ll just force your body to catch up on the healing.”

“…Huh?”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’ll only be the most uncomfortable thing you’ve ever experienced.”

“I think I’d rather not.”

“Too late, Clover. You’re not above the consequences of your actions.”

“W-wait—”

“Hey!” a gruff voice barked from below. “Who’s there?!”

Both of them froze.

Chara’s grin sharpened. “New idea, make sure to follow my lead–carefully though.”

“...What do you have planned exactly?” Clover whispered to them.

“You’ll see.”

Looking back, Clover thought, it wasn’t the worst thing. Having someone who cared enough to scold him, to drag him into messes, to make him feel the most confusing of feelings–it felt…fun.

As for the prank on the statue? He never found out. They spent the whole night messing with the nightwatch.

Though he didn’t really like what came after that. Chara pulled some strange trick with their Soul that left him utterly drained. Though at least it healed the bruising…

“Hmph…” Kanako groaned as she pushed herself upright.

Ah, she woke up.

…

Maybe if he just pretended to be asleep, she wouldn’t yell at him. After all, it wasn’t like she’d—

“Clover?”

“Yeah?” The answer slipped out before he could stop himself.

…

Dang it.

“You’re…okay?” Kanako’s voice trembled, her sleeve dragging across her cheek.

“Uh, yeah!” Clover forced a grin, hoping it would lighten the mood.

“Are you sure?”

“Hm-mh!”

“That’s…good.” She let out a shaky breath, but then her cheeks puffed and her eyes hardened. “Then what the heck were you thinking!?”

Ah. There it was.

“To be fair, I did last a little bit didn’t I?” Clover tried for a laugh. “A-and it wasn’t even my fault!”

“You’re so—” Kanako’s voice cracked, her head bowing as her shoulders shook. “You’re such an idiot! ”

…Wait–was she crying?

“Hey, hey,” Clover scooted closer, ignoring the soreness in his ribs. “Look, I’m fine, see?” He reached out, trying to tip her chin up.

But she pulled away, shaking her head violently, words spilling too fast to control. “N-no, you’re not! You–you didn’t see yourself!” Her fists pressed into her knees, she was trembling. “There was so much blood and your face went white and you weren’t moving and I thought–I thought—!” Her voice broke into gasping sobs.

…He felt like the worst person alive.

“It…couldn’t have been that bad?” The words slipped out before he could stop them, and instantly he wanted to bite his tongue off for saying something so stupid.

Kanako’s tear-streaked face snapped up, she was completely furious. “Couldn’t have been that bad…? Your Soul almost shattered!”

Clover froze, they felt their stomach drop. “…Shattered?”

“It came out of you and–and it was shaking so hard! Like it was going to shatter!” Her small hands flailed uselessly. “I thought I was watching it die! I thought I was watching you die! So I–I grabbed it, I held it together with everything I had, because if I let go you’d be gone and I couldn’t—!” She choked, pressing her hands to her mouth. “I couldn’t do it again. Not again…”

So…he really did almost die.

A cold truth pressed into him, he could swear someone else had told him about that, but… who?

“I…” Clover shook his head, voice weak. “Look, I’m real—”

“I was scared!”

The words exploded out of her, it hit him harder than anything he’d ever been hit with before.

Her breath hitched as she tried to continue. “Monsters turn to dust when they die, but humans just stay there. Just a lifeless body! N-no Soul, no warmth, nothing. I”ve already done this with Dad Clover!” Her voice cracked, ragged and broken. “Before he dusted I touched him and he was cold, and you—you felt the same, and I thought—”

His breath caught.

“…I’m sorry.”

He reached out, hand trembling as it found her arm.

“I’m really sorry.”

Kanako finally looked at him, eyes glistening. For a moment, she just stared, shaking. Then, in a sudden desperate motion, she pressed her forehead against his chest and clung to him with all her strength, like letting go would kill her.

“Please,” she begged through sobs, “don’t—don’t make me watch my brother die. Please don’t leave me too!”

The word froze him.

Something inside Clover broke and healed at the same time. He wrapped his arms around her, careful but desperate, holding her as tightly as his sore body allowed.

“…Okay,” he breathed, voice unsteady. “Okay, I won’t. I won’t.”

He meant it this time.

…

…

…

“Please don’t tell my mom about this,” Kanako mumbled, fiddling with her sleeves. “She only just started seeing me as more than just a kid.”

“Er, right.” Clover nodded. “Only if you don’t mention that I cried either.”

“I didn’t cry!”

He grinned. “Didn’t say you did.”

“You–!”

“I’m also pretty sure you called me something.” Clover tapped his temple, grinning. “What was it again? Oh yeah… your bro—”

“Hush!” Kanako slapped a hand over his mouth, cheeks puffed. “Don’t make it embarrassing!” She muttered. “…I still meant it, though.”

Clover gently pulled her hand down and chuckled. “I know. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

“You’re such a jerk.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “but don’t worry. I don’t mind being your big bro. Makes me feel… older you know? More mature.”

Kanako rolled her eyes. “You’re letting it go to your head already.”

“Heh, maybe a little.” Clover laughed. A sibling, huh? Not a bad feeling, not a bad feeling at all.

Anyway…

“Say, where is everyone?”

“Oh, they went to the estate hours ago. They’re looking for the map in Mom’s house.”

He winced. Ceroba probably wouldn’t love having her place turned inside out… and after Moray nearly killed him he…

 Well, it was better for everyone not to let Kanako know.

“Wait…” Clover frowned. “Your voice. It’s normal now.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah! It’s not all… gooey anymore.”

Kanako puffed her cheeks. “It wasn’t weird! But… yeah. I feel more like me again. Less… goopy.”

“Does that mean…?”

“Yes,” a new voice answered, calm and steady. “Sorry, I was sleeping.”

“You can sleep?” Clover blinked.

“Of course. Just because I’m… whatever I am, doesn’t mean I don’t. It helps pass the time as well,” Melody explained.

“Must get boring in there,” Clover muttered, glancing at Kanako.

“Where is everyone?” Melody asked, using one of Kanako’s eyes. The iris shifted to a deep blue, darting around independently.

“Whoa!” Kanako flinched. “That still feels weird.”

“Sorry,” Melody said flatly. “…Am I interrupting something?” They murmured as they looked up at Clover.

“Not really.” Clover leaned back with a smile. “But you did miss Kanako calling me her ‘dear, precious older brother.’”

“I did NOT say it like that!” Kanako shook her head so hard her hair whipped around.

“I see.” Melody’s tone was unreadable.

Clover grinned wider. Yeah, maybe they should head back soon… but this? 

This was nice. 

“…Are you about to fall asleep again?” Melody asked incredulously as Kanako rubbed her cheek against the sheets of his bed.

“I can’t help it! The fabric’s so silky!” Kanako mumbled.

Clover laughed and shook his head. “Five more minutes, huh?”

“…Five more minutes,” Kanako mumbled, already drifting.

Clover leaned back, watching her face soften as sleep pulled her under. He supposed waiting five minutes couldn’t hurt.

But…something still felt wrong.

‘Chara…’

He pictured their laugh, that sharp wit of theirs, the way they’d glare at him when he pushed himself to his absolute limits too far but never really let go of him either. Always right there at his side for some reason no matter what mess they stumbled into.

The thought of anyone hurting them really hurt.

He clenched his fist. They could handle themselves, he knew that, but he still wanted to stand by them instead of relaxing without them.

Sure, he had a sibling he could protect here and count on–but Chara was different. They were the one person he couldn’t imagine his world without. And even if he didn’t have a name for the feeling yet–

“You like them~!” Kanako teased.

Clover shut his eyes, the beating in his chest too hard to ignore.

“Oh no, I’m in so much trouble” he whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m such a mess.”

…

…

…

Clover tugged at the collar of his new sailor outfit, frowning. “Seriously, where did you guys even get this?”

“Oh, it’s from when Uncle Star was making costumes for the Month of Spooks,” Kanako said brightly. “I’m still confused why he called it a sailor uniform, though. There’s no skirt for it like my school uniform.”

“…Yeah, I’m confused about that too,” Clover muttered as he felt the fabric of his pants. Honestly, he didn’t care what he wore so long as he looked cool in it. It just happened to be that most of what made him look cool happened to be western gear.

He really missed his old outfit.

“Anyway, I forgot to say this but, thanks,” Clover said, grabbing his satchel off the table. “I mean it. You even healed me back to normal.”

“Um… all I did was make sure your Soul didn’t…” Kanako frowned, then shook it off. “Grandma did most of the healing.” Her eyes lit up as she clasped her hands. “Oh, you should’ve seen it! Her eyes glowed this deep orange, and all these cherry blossoms floated around you!”

“That’s… interesting,” Clover said. 

More so because he knew the Rava from Theron’s memory and the Rava he knew were one and the same, just… different. The one he knew had more darker fur and nine tails instead of one.

“Wait–I thought monster healing magic couldn’t fix everything?”

Kanako shrugged. “Does it matter? You’re okay!”

Hard to argue with that.

As he slung the satchel across his shoulder, Clover noticed a flyer on the table.

“‘Lumine Festival?’” He raised a brow. “The heck is that?”

“I dunno.” Kanako tilted her head. “Never heard of it.”

“I have.” Melody piped up. “It’s held in Waterfall in the city of the depths–Abyssoria.”

“Sounds spooky,” Clover remarked.

Kanako blinked. “How do you know what it was?”

“I… spent a lot of time there before I left.”

Kanako nodded. “Makes sense!”

No, it didn’t. But Clover didn’t feel like it was his place to push any further.

“Alright, let’s head to the estate. I need to get my stuff back.” He tapped his empty hip. “Feels weird not having anything there.”

“You openly carry your weapon?” Melody asked, surprised.

“It’s kinda cool,” Kanako grinned. “You should see him shoot stuff!”

“…That’s… nice, I suppose?”

The duo (plus Melody, though did it count if she was living in Kanako’s head?) stepped out of the clinic into the sandy streets of the Wild East.

It felt almost normal without every monster glaring at Clover like he was some violent criminal. Probably because they were all off at the Lumine Festival. Not that he was eager to go there himself–not with his reputation.

Monsterkind mostly favored him… if you ignored one entire region of the Underground. And without being the adopted child of the Royal Family, there were different expectations hanging over him. Expectations he had no interest in living up to.

“Hey,” Kanako squinted into the distance. “Doesn’t that guy look familiar?”

Clover followed her gaze. A large figure trudged toward town, dust rising in his wake. “…Kind of?”

“Is that not the foe who hates you?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“…It’s Lorien, no?”

Clover scoffed. As if that monster would just—

Kanako’s eyes widened. “It’s Lorien!”

…Oh, you’ve got to be kidding!

“Shit, how long have I been out?” they mumbled into their—nothing? Their hands? Gone?

…

No, they needed to focus. They were fighting ASGORE . He must’ve struck them down–but they couldn’t have lost. They wouldn’t!

Not after the promise they made with them. Not when they swore they’d come back.

They had to stop him! They had to win! Their family’s peace depended on it!

They could not fail! They would not fail!

But the fear gnawed at them–this was the King of Monsterkind they were going against. They were just… who were they exactly?

…

Hm, that was the problem. Their own name, their shape, their sense of self, they were slipping away, like ash blowing in the wind.

Were they someone? Or only a Soul desperately clinging to a promise?

…

And yet—even in nothingness they were in, even when they felt they were fading–something burned brighter.

A spark. A fire that refused to die.

Their Soul erupted in an orange flame, fierce and unyielding.

“…One more time!”

“What is he doing here?!” Clover hissed to Kanako, keeping his voice low.

“It’s not exactly out of character for him to hunt you down,” Melody muttered to him.

“You don’t even know him,” Kanako added on bluntly toward Melody.

“Not this one, no.” Melody’s answer was curt, offering nothing more then what was necessary.

Clover clenched his jaw. He needed more from her–desperately so if the information was critical–but this wasn’t the time.

Instead, he turned to Kanako. “Alright, I think I’ve got a plan.”

He spoke quickly, outlining the route: sneak around him–direct confrontation would be suicide. Use the half-finished structures around the Wild East for cover until they reached the tracks. Cross fast, then push on to Lake Aurora. From there, run straight to the estate and regroup with the others.

“You got that?”

“Y-yeah,” Kanako nodded.

Clover edged toward the window and peeked outside. The boss monster was still there, standing in front of the Saloon.

They’d go through the back. They could not risk a confrontation with him right now.

…

…

…

“Hnmph!” Clover grunted as he pressed himself flat against the wooden planks. Dust and grit scratched at his chin, the boards creaking faintly under his weight. He shifted his weight to make room for Kanako to also be able to see. Kanako had shrunk into a tiny, thumb-sized ball of fur–though the way her little body twitched betrayed how much strain the transformation put on her.

The Wild East wasn’t what it used to be. When Clover had first wandered through, it had been essentially just a roleplay town. But now? The place had grown. Half-finished barber shops with swinging doors, frame-built markets waiting for walls, and the faint outlines of restaurants lined the wide sandy street. Even incomplete and empty, the town buzzed faintly with life–tools left on sawhorses, scaffolding leaning against half-painted walls, and tracks of carts pressed into the dirt.

A shame Clover couldn’t appreciate any of it. He would likely be hushed out the moment he stepped in the town if he wasn’t with Starlo and even then that would pose multiple problems on its own.

Sometimes he wondered if things would’ve been easier if he had been born a monster. He wouldn’t have to fight so hard for the right to exist in this world. He could’ve lived normally with his friends without a care in the world.

But then… would he still have met Chara?

…

Dang it. Kanako might’ve been right–he didn’t just “like” the other human in a casual, friendly way. This was the “Oh no, I’m in love with my best friend” sort of mess.

Clover mentally groaned, dragging himself forward on his elbows toward the next bit of cover. He had always imagined his first crush would come with fireworks or some grand revelation, not while crawling through the dirt trying not to get killed.

Odd how love works.

Well– love might be a strong word. More like… admiration. Would affection be better word?

“By the Angel, we get it already!” Kanako and Melody’s voices chorused in his head.

He blinked. ‘Oh right, they can hear my thoughts when they’re touching me.’

…

‘HOLD ON—!’

“BE QUIET!” they snapped.

Clover winced, cheeks burning. Right, escaping Lorien mattered more than their feelings. But still—

“JUST GO ALREADY!”

He sighed and pushed forward. Yeah, escaping first, everything else later.

Clover slid behind a stack of lumber, breath tight in his chest. Through the gaps in the boards, he caught sight of Lorien’s hulking silhouette in the distance, framed by the saloon’s lantern glow. The boss monster wasn’t moving–just waiting, shoulders squared, head sweeping ever so slightly.

Clover bit down on the inside of his cheek. He’d seen monsters with killing intent before, but Lorien’s quiet presence felt heavier than all of them combined.

…Well not really, Flowey had been a bigger threat than the monster.

“Alright…” Clover mouthed under his breath, “next spot, on three.”

He pointed ahead at a half-built market stall. Canvas hung loose from its frame, flapping softly in the dry wind. Perfect cover if they moved fast enough.

Kanako twitched her tiny ball form in affirmation. Melody’s voice was terse in his head . “You don’t have time to count to three.”

Clover grimaced. “Fine, let’s move now.”

He crawled low, boots scraping lightly against the planks as he darted into the open. For one heart-pounding moment, he was exposed in the light of the Swelterstone sun. He swore Lorien’s head turned, but then he was under the canvas stall, shadowed again.

He gestured silently to Kanako. They’d need to cross another open street to reach the train tracks on the far side of town. That was the only way to Lake Aurora that would be the most safest.

His throat tightened. That meant exposing themselves again though. 

“He knows you’re here,” Melody whispered, a certainty that crawled down his spine.

“Shut up,” Clover hissed under his breath. His knuckles whitened around his satchel strap.

A sudden noise cracked through the stillness–wood splintering. Clover’s eyes shot toward the saloon– Lorien was gone.

“…Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Clover’s blood ran cold.

Clover pressed his back against the rough timber frame, every nerve taut. The saloon’s lantern still burned steady, but Lorien’s silhouette was gone. That was worse than seeing him. 

He motioned low to Kanako, then crawled forward, keeping to the scaffolding’s shade. Sand crunched under his palm—too loud. He froze, pulse hammering in his ears. 

He risked a glance back. Nothing but an empty street.

Then a heavy bootstep landed just yards away.

Clover snapped his head toward the sound--Lorien’s broad frame shifted through the light of an unfinished storefront. 

Clover’s gut tightened.

Kanako quivered, her tiny ball form nearly slipping from his palm as he scooped her up. They slipped behind a row of crates stacked near the edge of the market. The gaps between boards offered glimpses of Lorien pacing, they were slow and deliberate.

“Move,” Melody hissed in his head. 

Clover grit his teeth and bolted low across the street, his body rolling behind the shadow of a half-finished restaurant. Tarps flapped against his shoulders as he ducked inside the skeletal frame, weaving between sawhorses and planks.

And then–through the gaps in the scaffolding–he saw it.

Beyond the buildings laid an iron skeleton–the unfinished train station. New tracks jutted from its base into the sand like veins, leading out toward Lake Aurora. 

Their exit.

Clover didn’t think—he moved. He darted between the skeletal frames of buildings, the rhythm of his steps blending with the wind and rattling boards.

A final sprint carried Clover across the open street. Boots hit the iron rail, the cold bite grounding him as he slipped into the yawning dark of the train station’s unfinished platform.

The air inside smelled of steel and dust, the ceiling only half-constructed overhead.

Clover pressed against the wall, Kanako clutched tight to his chest.

They’d made it.

…

…

…

“We need to get to the other side of the platform,” Clover whispered, eyes scanning the station. Kanako had shifted back into her normal form, crouched low beside him.

“What’s wrong with us staying on this side?” she asked.

The answer came before Clover could speak, with footsteps echoing from outside, reverberating off the walls.

He pointed toward the sound and motioned forward. “That’s why.”

They crept along the platform’s edge, weaving past beams and stacks of unused planks, until their path ended in an obstacle, the steam train. The same one Clover had glimpsed when he’d first entered the Wild East. Its steel body loomed across the station blocking their path.

“Oh!” Kanako perked up, her voice hushed but eager. “We can just go through it by using the door.”

“Right,” Clover muttered, jogging to the nearest carriage door. He tugged at the handle–and froze. His eyes widening in disbelief. “…You’ve got to be kidding me.” He stared at the glowing shard wedged into the lock. “Did they seriously use a swelterstone to keep this thing closed?”

“Hm… that’s dangerous, no?” Melody hummed.

“No duh it is!” Clover hissed, his voice sharper than intended. Heat radiated faintly from the stone, shimmering against the doorframe. Whoever had sealed it clearly hadn’t wanted anyone inside, not that it would’ve worked, like at all.

Regardless, Clover didn’t hesitate. He jammed his thumb against the latch, popped the swelterstone free with a snap, and the door creaked open instantly under its own weight.

He slipped the stone into his pocket, ‘Toasty.’ He remarked to himself. He noted that he had enough materials to make fire pellets, though that could wait until later.

“Come on,” he whispered, ushering Kanako inside.

The train was dim and stale, seats half-covered with dust sheets and windows lined with sand. It didn’t seem like it was being very well taken care of. Clover guided them briskly down the aisle.

After a short bit they spilled out the far side of the carriage, boots hitting the gravel on the opposite track. The bulk of the train shielded them now, more so since it covered the majority of their path out the Wild East.

Clover breathed a sigh of relief. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Kanako nodded.

…

…

…

“Just a few more minutes until we reach the lake,” Clover said to Kanako.

“I… know that?”

“A-ah, right.” He scratched his cheek. He was reminding himself more than her. It was odd–Kanako had lived in the Underground her whole life, she knew far more about it than he did. And yet, he still felt the need to narrate everything to her like some walking exposition machine.

…What did exposition mean again?

“Stop,” Melody cut in, their voice crisp. Both Clover and Kanako froze.

“What?” Clover raised a brow.

“…Two monsters ahead,” Melody responded, “But perhaps they’re your friends?”

Clover squinted. Sure enough, two shapes waited down the path–a mirror monster and a rabbit monster. How had he missed them? There was literally nothing obstructing his view of them.

“Tourists?” Kanako tilted her head.

Oh that’s right! The Wild East was meant to draw in tourists since it was an attraction in the Underground, though Clover rarely thought of it that way. To him, it was just home.

“Unlikely,” Melody said,  “If they were, they’d be at the Lumine Festival right now.”

Clover let out a weary sigh. The last thing he wanted was another fight. Whether it was nearly dying or scraping together words to talk an enemy down, it all felt exhausting. He might’ve been a cowboy, but he was still just a kid.

The world didn’t care though.

Already, his mind spun through his options–strike first and restrain them, or wait and counter if they attacked. But what if they weren’t hostile? What if they really were tourists? He hated the thought of hurting them by mistake.

If only there was a way to fight without… actually fighting.

A sudden stab of pain tore through his chest. Clover gasped, clutching himself.

Kanako spun toward him instantly. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” He froze. Just as quickly, the pain was gone, leaving only a blur in his vision. “I don’t know.” He blinked hard until the world turned normal again.

“…Okay?” Kanako’s eyes lingered on him, worry etched in her voice.

“I’m fine. Probably just a side effect from being healed too fast.” He tried to reassure her, though even to himself, it sounded like a half-truth.

Still… maybe Chara was right. He really did throw himself into danger too recklessly, he probably wouldn’t even be feeling like this if he just rested or was more careful.

“We should strike first,” Melody said flatly. “It’s clear they won’t be allies.”

Clover shook his head. “No, let’s try talking first. See if we can convince them peacefully."

Kanako nodded quickly. “Yeah, I don’t want any of us fighting if we don’t have to.”

“…Very well.” Melody’s tone was skeptical, but they didn’t argue.

…

…

…

“W-what if they actually do kill us?” the mirror monster stammered.

“They’re not the one with stripes, are they?” the rabbit monster said flatly, steadying the other with a firm look. “...And I’m here, aren’t I?”

“But the human—”

“That so-called ‘human’ is on a completely different level than this one,” the rabbit cut in sharply. “Back in Old Home I got the drop on them. Remember when you had to ‘stop me,’ with that Dalv guy?”

“I-I mean…”

They hadn’t noticed Clover and the others yet, but their voices carried over the dry wind. Clover’s stomach twisted. ‘Dalv… that mirror monster was pretending to be Dalv?!’ He did think any monster should have been able to mimic another so seamlessly.

Then what happened to the real one?

“Did…” Kanako whispered, her voice small and uncertain, “Did Dalv betray us?”

Melody’s tone was cool, dismissive. “I don’t believe that’s the case.”

Either way, Clover knew—there wasn’t going to be a peaceful crossing. His eyes flicked to the edge of the track, where a steep slope vanished into the Wild East’s jagged canyon floor. Nope. One wrong step and I’d be a splatter stain on the rocks.

He turned back to Kanako, squaring his shoulders. “You ready?”

“For what?” she asked nervously.

“A battle encounter.” Melody’s voice was matter-of-fact. “They will not view you favorably considering your relationships with the two humans.”

As if that justified hating Kanako.

“W-what if his plan doesn’t work?” the mirror monster stammered again.

Inaya scoffed. “I have a backup. I actually did something with stripes and—” She froze, her ears twitching. “They’re here.”

“Oh by the Angel, I-I’m not ready!” the mirror monster whimpered.

Maybe… just maybe… words could still get through to them. Clover leaned close to Kanako and whispered, “Follow my lead.”

The distance between the groups wasn’t much, but the desert wind made every step feel louder. The sand clouds started to pick up considerably.

“Hey there!” Clover shouted, forcing a cheer into his voice. “It’s uh… Clover! The Cowboy!”

Inaya tilted her head. “Aren’t you in a happy mood?”

Clover took a few careful steps forward, plastering on his widest fakest smile. “Why wouldn’t I be? I mean, I’m alive and I’m at home!”

She tilted her head. “I suppose that’s a reason.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Clover noticed that the mirror monster vanished. His gut tightened, but he pushed forward anyway.

“I was just wondering if you’d let us pass.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you don’t like fighting?” Clover tried, his grin starting to ache.

Her brow arched. “I don’t like fighting?”

“Yeah! I mean… not bad fighting?” He forced a shrug. “I mean fighting that doesn’t need to happen.”

Inaya sighed, her ears drooping faintly.

“I don’t get it. Why do you insist on living so badly?”

Clover stopped cold. “…What?”

“We have all the human Souls in the Underground we need—we have enough to break the barrier,” Inaya said, confused. “You should be glad you’re being used for something greater than yourself yet you choose to live.”

“...”

“Monsterkind has been trapped under this mountain for almost a millennium. Our population grows, but the land doesn’t. Eventually, we’ll die from the overuse of resources.”

“...”

“You know it’s the right thing to do, Clover.” Inaya’s voice softened, almost coaxing.

Honestly? 

He had thought about it–giving up his Soul that is–freeing his friends. He’d even done it once before. He sacrificed himself for the greater good, his friends happiness, for them to see the Sun and stars.

So why wouldn’t he do it again…?

“You want to do what when this is over!?” Martlet squawked, feathers puffing in alarm.

Clover tilted his head, unbothered. “...I want to give up my Soul? Not sure what’s so confusing about that.”

Ceroba’s ears flattened as she let out a long, shaky breath. “No.”

“Sorry?” Clover blinked.

“Deputy, that’s gotta be the worst idea you’ve ever had–” Starlo cut in, voice rising before softening. “And that’s saying something coming from me! No offense.”

Clover looked at them, confusion crossing his face. “Wait, why? It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“It doesn’t,” Ceroba said firmly.

The group sat along the river in Hotland waiting for the River Person’s boat. Clover had only mentioned his plan in passing, but the reaction it drew was immediate and frightened.

The silence that followed was heavier than the molten air around them.

“It’d make your lives better—” Clover began.

“You’re not doing it,” Ceroba snapped. “We already lost you once. We’re not letting that mistake happen again.”

Starlo nodded quickly. “C’mon, it was noble then but we ain’t think through it properly. We should’ve done more for you.”

Martlet ruffled her wings nervously, her usual energy subdued. “Clover…don’t even joke about doing stuff like that.”

Clover swallowed, suddenly unsure of himself. He looked away toward the molten lava below, murmuring, “...Fine.”

He supposed it was still too early to have this conversation.

He sighed. “Yeah, it is the right thing to do.”

Inaya opened her mouth to speak but–

“But I’m not going to do that. At least… not now.” Clover gave a dry chuckle. “I’ve got some people who’d be pretty mad at me if I did.”

“…That’s the only thing holding you back?”

“That, and the part of the Voidwalkers plan where you guys kill humanity. That’s sort of a deal-breaker, y’know?”

Inaya scoffed. “Knew this was a waste of time.”

…He hadn’t heard Kanako’s voice in a while. He wanted to look for her, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the two—

‘Wait!’ His Soul flared, glowing bright gold as his body whipped around. Kanako was fighting with the mirror monster, both trapped in a hazy bubble that dulled their movements and sound.

Clover’s hand shot forward, instinctively throwing up a transparent yellow shield in front of her. Both fighters froze in confusion as the barrier shimmered.

Red filled his vision–Inaya was already on him! There wasn’t any time to dodge!

His Soul pulsed with power as her blow struck.

The kinetic force rebounded instantly, slamming her back a step.

Oh yeah, he was back alright.

“W-what?! How’d you—”

Clover ignored her, sprinting to Kanako’s side. The haze dissolved as the mirror monster faltered, time running out.

“O-oh no…” the creature stammered, stumbling near the ledge of the train tracks.

Clover stopped in front of Kanako, shielding her without thinking. “Are you okay?”

Kanako nodded, though uneasily. “I’m fine… but he just keeps copying my moves.”

‘What?’ Clover didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Across the tracks, the two enemies whispered hurriedly.

“What should we do?” the mirror monster asked.

“Calm down, Mirro,” Inaya hissed. “You know the plan.”

“R-right.”

Plan? Clover narrowed his eyes. If it was to take him down, they’d be sorely disappointed.

He glanced at Kanako and forced a grin, steadying his voice. “Just think of these two as… bandits.”

“Bandits?”

“Yeah. And we’re the cowboys bringing ’em in.” He tipped his head like the gunslinger he was, smiling reassuringly.

The air thickened. The sandstorm howled, kicking up clouds that whipped around them.

The four squared off across the tracks.

…A showdown was about to go down.

|

||||||

“He’s cheating,” a flat, bored voice remarked.

“So?” a woman’s voice replied lazily.

“…He hasn’t signed it.”

“Ugh, you’re such a stickler for the rules.”

“Go get him, won’t you?”

“It isn’t even our time yet. Does it matter?”

“It’s not our time, yes—but he must accept the contract.”

"Fine." She let out a long sigh. “Being stuck in here this long has made you insufferably rigid.”

“And it hasn’t to you?”

“…”

“Mimic him!” Inaya shouted, lunging at Clover as he stumbled back.

“Got it—!” Mirro called, just before a fireball slammed into his side.

They were being loud. The fight had been going on long enough to wear on him, yet neither side had done any significant damage to each other.

“We don’t have to fight!” Clover cried, sidestepping a kick. “Do you really want to kill me that bad!?”

“I…” Inaya faltered mid-swing.

“D-don’t let him trick you!” Mirro shouted, his voice shaking as Kanako pressed the attack.

Kanako was actually holding her own—extremely well actually–using her shifting, goo-like body to slip around attacks and retaliate with sudden bursts of fire. It was surprising, he honestly thought he’d have to cover her but no. She was every bit the boss monster she was.

A flash of red warned Clover of Inaya’s strike. He barely managed to duck aside.

Fighting her felt strange. She refused to use magic–just fists and feet. It was more like fighting with a human than a monster. Though it did make some sense, Chara had told him before that physical attacks, unlike magic, left more permanent damage that couldn’t be healed using food.

“Inaya,” Clover dodged again, his breath quick, “do you believe in this plan? Violence won’t fix anything–it’ll only make more problems!”

“That’s why we’re removing humans from it entirely!”

“You’re going to kill everyone up there?!” Clover’s voice cracked. “Yeah, there are bad people–but there are good ones too! You can’t punish them all for the actions of a few people!”

“Stop messing with my head!” Her strikes came harder, faster,angrier, but sloppier.

She wasn’t listening. He couldn’t really do anything to her.

Maybe if…

“Kanako!” Clover shouted. “Switch!”

“Okay!”

His Soul pulsed, light spilling outward. A yellow shield flashed between him and Inaya, giving Kanako the opening to take over. She’d be better against Inaya anyway, he might be able to convince the other monster.

Clover turned toward Mirro. “Hey.”

“H-hey!” Mirro squeaked, trembling. “Y-you didn’t n-need to switch t-targets…”

“Guess I thought differently.” Clover steadied himself as he prepared to dodge the next set of attacks.

Mirro’s fighting style was strange, pulling beams of Swelterstone sunlight from the air and firing them like arrows. Pretty and thankfully more manageable. Clover pulsed his Soul again, catching a beam and reflecting it back.

“Ack!” Mirro staggered, his glass body rattling with each tremor.

“ I promise –we don’t have to do this,” Clover urged. “We could just walk away.”

“S-sorry… we can’t.” Mirro’s voice cracked with something that almost sounded like regret.

Clover frowned. “Are… you okay?”

The monster blinked, caught off guard. “Odd question to ask—”

A puff of smoke burst around him. When it cleared, Clover found himself staring into light-blue eyes. His own face stared back.

Clover blinked. “Wait, I thought you copied people exactly?”

“I did.”

“I don’t have cyan eyes.”

Mirro tilted his head. “You do, though.”

Before Clover could scoff, a flash of red flared–and pain ripped across his arm as a yellow blast grazed him.

-6 HP.

“Perfect copy, my butt!” Clover hissed, clutching the burn. “You’re just making moves up!”

“I’m not!” Mirro snapped, firing another blast.

Clover deflected with a counter–but Mirro was ready this time, dodging with ease. “I don’t understand your confusion.”

Clover grit his teeth. This was starting to get old. He hated how powerless he felt, stuck on the defensive. He didn’t want to fight–but some monsters would only listen once they were beaten.

Maybe if he closed the distance he could force Mirro to do something else. He could counter and give him no time to react…

“Stop moving!” Inaya shouted furiously behind him.

“Then leave us alone!” Kanako barked back.

At least she was holding her own.

Another flash of red lit Clover’s vision. He ducked, the beam hissing past his head. 

“You really like spamming those, huh?” Clover grumbled as another yellow blast cut across the air toward him. He ducked low, the beam tearing through the sleeve of his sailor’s outfit. The fabric fluttered off his arm in tatters. “Ah, c’mon! I just got these!”

“S-sorry!” Mirro stammered, panic in his voice. His hands trembled, but still he threw another shot.

Clover darted sideways, boots grinding across the grit of the train tracks. The blast detonated against a rail line scattering sparks. He clicked his tongue, he was starting to cut it close.

Mirro was quick–every movement copying him with an eerie delay, every blast tinged with a bitterness Clover couldn’t quite place. The timing was just off enough to be dangerous despite it being ‘him’.

Clover feinted left, then rolled right, closing the gap. Mirro mirrored him perfectly, bringing his hands up at the same angle to produce another blast. The shot nearly clipped Clover’s cheek, the heat of it scorching the air.

“Alright, fine!” Clover barked, stumbling away from his copy. “If you like copying me so much then you can take my losses too!”

Another blast lit up the space, he needed to use more patience in how he did this. Clover grit his teeth, watching it carefully. It wasn’t his Justice –it screamed with something harsher–it screamed of Vengeance.

‘I get it now.’

He sucked in a breath, his Soul pulsed yellow, and he forced a barrier into existence before him. It gleamed for an instant–then cracked apart into dozens of shards, scattering like glass into the dusty air once it got it.

Mirro blinked. “W-what is that supposed to—”

The next blast tore forward. Instead of vanishing, it hit the fragments, bouncing wildly between them, ricocheting in jagged lines of light. Each shard flared like a tiny star.

Clover staggered back, arms straining as he forced the shards to shift, pulling them into a crude  looking ring. The reflected beams aligned, angling back toward their source.

“It looks different…” Clover’s voice trembled with the strain, his knees threatening to buckle. “…but it’s still light.”

The shards finally snapped into position. The redirected blast screamed across the gap, striking Mirro square in the chest.

“Ghh—!” The monster convulsed, his now glassy form locking up, frozen in place.

Clover exhaled hard, nearly dropping to his knees. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “…I’m sorry,” he whispered, glancing at Mirro. “I really did want to solve this without fighting you.”

The attack became his the moment he caught it, and since he held no real hatred for the monster it did no damage, rather it kept its kinetic energy.

“I don’t understand you,” Mirro coughed, his form trembling. “Would it not be better if you just killed us?”

“So that I can…do what? So I can get stronger?” Clover staggered forward, every step heavy. “We’re not that different, you and me. I love, I hope… isn’t that enough to live without the need of violence?”

Mirro scoffed, eyes narrowing. “You’re insane. You’re actually insane.”

Clover let out a tired laugh, his smile faint. “Then I’m not dumb after all.”

“What?” Mirro blinked in confusion.

“Nothing.” Clover wiped sweat from his brow, his breath shallow. “Just thinking out loud.”

A voice slithered into his mind, sharp and mocking, “In this world… it’s KILL or be KILLED!” Flowey’s mask of friendliness had long since slipped, his words bitter with contempt. And Clover knew… Flowey wasn’t the only one who thought that way.

“This world isn’t cruel because it has to be,” Clover muttered, staring down at Mirro. “It’s cruel because we choose to hurt each other. And we don’t have to do that.”

“I…” Mirro faltered, his head sinking back into the sand. “…you might be—”

-13 HP

Clover gasped as searing pain tore through his skull, vision blurring.

“Keep your head in the game, Mirro!” Inaya’s voice cut sharp. She hurled something to Mirro. “Focus!”

“But… maybe he’s–”

“He’s not!”

Clover staggered back, clutching at his head before his legs buckled. Kanako darted to his side, catching him under the arm.

“Are you okay?!” she cried, panic rising in her tone.

“I-I’m fine…” Clover forced his eyes open, forcing a shaky grin. “We… we can do this, yeah?” He looked to her, weak but resolute.

Kanako nodded firmly. “Right!”

But when Clover glanced back, Mirro was gone. Only Inaya remained, standing alone in the dust.

“I’d advise healing him,” Melody said calmly.

“Oh yeah!” Kanako pressed her hands against Clover’s back. A warm surge spread through him, his vision clearing, the pain in his skull fading.

+10 HP

“….” Inaya’s glare lingered on them.

They braced themselves, ready for whatever came next—

“Bye.”

She slipped a strange pink crystal from her clothes. A flash of light swallowed her form, and when it faded, she was gone.

…

“So…” Clover scratched his cheek. “That’s… that?”

“I hope so,” Kanako murmured, still tense.

Well… that went decently okay all things considered. All they had to do now was—

“There you are.”

Clover groaned inwardly. Of course, just his luck.

Turning, he found himself staring up at the boss monster. “Lorien! …Wow, aren’t I just thrilled to see you.”

The larger monster hummed, his steps slow and deliberate as he closed the distance. “I would say that it’s a shame that it had to come to this. But… you know how it is.”

“Uh huh,” Clover muttered. This was the last person he wanted to deal with right now.

“What do we do?!” Kanako hissed in a panicked whisper.

Clover smirked, keeping his voice low. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.” Then louder, to Lorien, “You’re here for my Soul, aren’t you?”

Lorien’s eyes narrowed. “…That too.”

‘That too?’ Clover repeated in his head, but he didn’t have time to think about it.

“Well, that’s a problem, ain’t it?” he said, scratching the back of his head. “If only there were–wait a second, is that a human Soul?!” He jabbed a finger past Lorien’s shoulder.

The boss snapped his head to look—

And in that instant, Clover yanked Kanako’s hand. “Run!”

They bolted, tearing off in the direction of Lake Aurora. Against his terrible luck, Lorien had fallen for the oldest trick in the book!

…

For about two seconds.

“…Wait.” Lorien’s tone dropped cold, the sound carrying across the sand. He spun back around, fury flashing in his eyes. “You little brat.”

Clover risked a glance back. His stomach twisted–the boss was already giving chase, his long strides eating up the distance like the distance they made were nothing.

“Kanako!” Clover gasped. “Just run!”

“I’m trying!“ she squeaked.

Things just couldn’t go his way could they?

…

…

…

Yeah, they couldn’t make it that far. At least here, if they fell off the tracks’ path, they wouldn’t plummet to their deaths–just onto the rough rocks below.

“Stay behind me,” Clover murmured, stepping forward. His legs felt like jelly, but he forced them steady. “What do you want!”

The boss monster paused, tilting his head. “…What I want?”

“Y-yeah!” Clover’s voice cracked despite his bravado. His palms were sweaty, his stomach in knots. He knew how onesided this was. “Wouldn’t it be better if you looked for other human Souls instead of one that’s alive?”

Lorien nodded slowly. “Yes. It would.”

Clover’s chest loosened for half a second—

“But you…”

‘Ah, there it is.’ Clover’s lips pressed tight, dread settling in his stomach. Why did every powerful monster in existence hate him so much? Was it Karmic Retribution? He hadn’t even done anything that bad! At least, not that he remembered.

“I will not let you get away again,” Lorien growled, his coat shifting with the weight of something heavy beneath it.

A flash of monochrome washed over Clover’s vision. The ground beneath them warped into an arena of black and white. It had been a while since he’d been dragged into this kind of fight.

“Did you know,” Lorien started, “monsters are at their most powerful when they fight like this?”

Clover’s eyes darted to Kanako–thankfully, she was just outside the arena’s edge. “Go get the others, now!”

Kanako hesitated, then gave a firm nod before sprinting off down the tracks.

Clover groaned. “Just my luck.”

“I’ll be courteous,” Lorien said with a dangerous smile. “You may have the first turn.”

Clover glanced down at his options:

*ACT

-Check

-Shield (20% req.)

-Call for Help

-Tense

He pressed Tense. His body stiffened, reaction time sharpening just in time for Lorien’s move.

The boss monster drew from beneath his coat a chain of white blades, spectral and jagged, then flicked them outward. They spiraled like a storm of sawteeth, slashing across the box. Clover’s SOUL jerked desperately between them, squeezing through gaps, his body jolting with each near miss.

“Not bad,” Lorien said, voice low. “But you’re already breaking.”

Clover panted, then opened his ITEMS. He didn’t have much that would be useful at the moment. He had ammo sure, but they all needed a gun. The only one that didn’t need it was his water pellets but…

“Let’s see if this still works…” he muttered, going through his ACT options before settling on Shield.

The shimmering barrier flickered into existence in front of his Soul.

This time, the boss monster slammed his hand down. A wave of black-and-white chains burst from the ground, snapping like jaws. Clover used the shield as cover, barely deflecting them, sparks of energy cracking off the protection.

“Don’t fail me now,” Clover muttered, his hands shaking. He had to think of something. The fight wasn’t going to end if he just dodged.

His eyes flicked past Lorien–to the edge of the arena, where the tracks arched into a narrow land bridge across the land below. 

‘There.’

If he couldn’t beat Lorien head-on…

“Guess it’s time to improvise.” Clover yanked the Water Pellets from his item.  Not exactly a weapon, but in his hands… 

He hurled them forward. The capsules burst in a rush of shimmering spray, water hissing and running across the bridge’s iron rails. The battlefield tilted in colorless monochrome, the sheen of the liquid glowing faintly like ink against paper.

Lorien sneered, his massive frame striding through the spray, spectral blades dragging lines of pale light across the arena. But the water spread wider, pooling across the narrow bridge—turning steel into glass.

Clover staggered backward, boots slipping as he feigned weakness. His arms trembled as he raised his shield. “Come on… just a little more.”

Lorien’s footsteps thundered–each one drew him closer. Each one carried more weight than the bridge seemed ready to hold.

Then…?

His heel skidded.

The moment stretched, time felt as though it slowed. Clover’s eyes widened as he saw the opening–tiny, fragile, and perfect! His heart slammed against his ribs.

‘Now!’

He lunged forward, slamming every ounce of desperation and fury into Lorien. The impact reverberated like a bell as he put everything he had into it.

Lorien’s eyes went wide in shock. His blades scattered into static as his footing gave way.

Slowly–agonizingly slowly–his massive form toppled backward, arms flailing, the world dragging him down. The bridge shuddered as he vanished from sight, swallowed by the formation of a dust cloud below.

The monochrome arena cracked. Shards of black and white shattered around Clover, scattering into nothing. Color bled back into the world.

Clover dropped to his knees, chest heaving. For a long moment, he just stared at the water dripping from his hands.

“…God,” he whispered, voice ragged, “I hope water ruins his coat.”

He turned to walk away, chest still heaving from the fight.

“Hold on!” Lorien’s voice echoed from below.

This guy really didn’t know when to give up, did he?

Reluctantly, he turned back and looked down. He was battered but far from being broken. And then–glinting in his hand–a pulsing orange glow.

Clover’s breath hitched. ‘No way!’

The Bravery Soul.

“You’re looking for this, aren’t you?” Lorien sneered, holding the Soul aloft like a taunt. “I might use it if you don’t want it.”

He groaned internally, It feels as though life itself just loved to beat him into the ground over, and over, and over time and time again.

Could he even do this? Is he going to run into a fight just to get beaten down again ?

…

God he was so scared. He thought he grew apathetic to death during his journey but without the guarantee of time reversal it made it feel real again.

…

If he died… would it even matter?

All he ever did was make people worry. He was a burden, a liability. Maybe the Underground would be better off without him.

The edges of his vision blurred, colors fading as though the world itself were slowing down, bending under the weight of his doubt.

“That’s not true!”

The voice ripped through his thoughts, it was firm, commanding, impossibly familiar.

Clover’s eyes snapped open, heart hammering. It couldn’t be…

He was back in the forest—the one where his parents had died.

A black-suited figure scoffed. “You really think the two of you can make a difference?”

His mother laughed, steady and defiant. “And you think we can’t?”

“I’m not the one being pointed at with a gun,” the figure replied. “I don’t care how good you are at ‘revealing the truth’ or how talented you think you are—it doesn’t matter now.”

“...”

The figure smiled cruelly. “Look at, it this way you won’t have to deal with everything going wrong once I kill you.”

His father’s eyes were firm. “They won’t quit. Not now, not ever.”

The figure blinked. “You mean the Soulbearer?” Laughter spilled from them, sharp and bitter. “You’re kidding, right? That kid is pathetic compared to the others we’ve handled. And all the mistakes they left behind let us find you two. They won’t amount to anything.”

Another figure emerged from the shadows—a tired-looking man. “You haven’t finished them off?”

The black suit tilted its head. “What? It’s amusing to see them shout ideals they can’t uphold.”

“You’re wrong!” Clover’s father bellowed. “He can make a difference.”

“See?”

The tired man sighed. “Just finish the job.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Clover’s mother said calmly.

The figure blinked. “Your point?”

“You don’t have to force yourself to do something so terrible,” she continued. “It’s easy to follow the way the world works, but you know it’s wrong. There’s no Justice in killing us—and you know that.”

“...”

“I know you’ll shoot us,” his mother said, drawing in a steadying breath. “But you’ll live with the guilt, knowing you could have done something better.”

His father added, “It doesn’t matter if we die here. We already made a change. Others will carry our will–Clover will carry it. A change will come, and you’ll be swept away when it does.”

The figure cocked the gun. “S-shut up!”

“No matter what you do, you won’t stop them—not with your weak resolve.”

BANG!

Clover’s father fell first.

Through the bushes, Clover saw his mother brace herself, holding back from rushing to his side.

“Your child will face terrible things,” the figure snarled. “I’ll make sure they suffer rejection, defeat, again and again. I might even drive them to—”

“You’re wrong.”

“ Oh my God , what is it with you people saying I’m wrong?”

“Clover… he’s far from here now, but,” his mother grimaced, eyes to the ground, “I know he’ll be okay. His Soul–no, his spirit–will bring Justice to those without it.”

BANG!

Clover’s mother collapsed, blood bubbling from her mouth. “I-it’s… not… over… until… h… w..ins.”

“Shut up.” The figure waved a hand at the tired man. “I don’t want to hear it.”

-.-- --- ..- / .-. . .- .-.. .-.. -.-- / .- .-. . / .- -. / .. -.. .. --- - -.-.--

Clover stood, hands steady, eyes cold. A monster was retreating. He fired without hesitation—the air filled with dust and smoke.

-. --- / -- .- - - . .-. / .-- .... .- - / -.-. .... --- .. -.-. . ... / -.-- --- ..- / -- .- -.- . / --- .-. / .... --- .-- / .--- ..- ... - / -.-- --- ..- / - .-. -.-- / - --- / -... . .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.-

He gazed at the coffins, the fallen humans. They didn’t deserve this fate.

The King would be brought to Justice.

.. - .----. .-.. .-.. / . -. -.. / - .... . / ... .- -- . -.-.-- / -... ..- - / -.-- --- ..- / -.- -. --- .-- / - .... . / -... . ... - / .--. .- .-. - ..--.. -.-.--

The sun poured warmth onto him.

…But it didn’t feel right. He wasn’t himself.

-.-- --- ..- .----. .-. . / .- .-.. .-. . .- -.. -.-- / -.. . .- -.. --..-- / -.-- --- ..- / .... . .- .-. / - .... .- - ..--.. -.-.-- / -.-- --- ..- .----. .-. . / -.. . .- -.. -.-.--

That wasn’t him. He refused to accept that he’d willingly commit such acts.

He was scared–so scared.

But he wouldn’t let himself fall without making it right.

…!?

A light began forming in his hands. Time snapped back into place.

“💧︎︎⚐︎︎ ✋︎︎❄︎︎ ☟︎︎✌︎︎💧︎︎ 👌︎︎☜︎︎☝︎︎🕆︎︎☠︎︎📬︎”

The weapon took shape instinctively, shifting between rope and revolver as if it had always been part of him.

“Interesting,” Lorien said, glare sharp. “For one so young to manifest this… Spirit weapons normally require guidance.” He tucked the human Soul away immediately.

Clover barely heard him.

The world dulled to gray. Time slowed until all he could see was the gun. Six chambers stared back at him. One was filled with a calm, steady cyan. But the next chamber burned with a fierce, radiant orange, pulsing with heat. The rest were empty.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind him.

“✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ ☞︎✌︎☼︎ ❄︎⚐︎⚐︎ ☹︎✌︎❄︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎☼︎ ✌︎🕈︎✌︎😐︎☜︎☠︎✋︎☠︎☝︎📪︎” boomed a voice that shook the air. The figure loomed impossibly tall, its shadow stretching across everything. “✋︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎ 🕈︎✌︎✋︎❄︎☜︎👎︎ ✌︎ ✞︎☜︎☼︎✡︎📪︎ ✞︎☜︎☼︎✡︎ ☹︎⚐︎☠︎☝︎ ❄︎✋︎💣︎☜︎📬︎”

Clover gritted his teeth and focused on the revolver. But when he looked up, a slip of parchment hovered in front of him.

“👌︎☜︎☞︎⚐︎☼︎☜︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 👍︎☹︎✌︎✋︎💣︎ ❄︎☟︎✋︎💧︎ 🏱︎⚐︎🕈︎☜︎☼︎📪︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 💣︎🕆︎💧︎❄︎ 💧︎✋︎☝︎☠︎📬︎ 🕈︎✋︎❄︎☟︎⚐︎🕆︎❄︎ ✋︎❄︎📪︎ ✋︎❼︎☹︎☹︎ 👌︎☜︎ 🕆︎☠︎✌︎👌︎☹︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 👍︎⚐︎☠︎❄︎✌︎👍︎❄︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎📬︎ ”

Clover’s hand trembled. “…What happens after I sign it?”

“👎︎⚐︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ 👌︎☜︎ ✌︎☞︎☼︎✌︎✋︎👎︎📬︎ ✌︎☹︎☹︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ⚐︎👍︎👍︎🕆︎☼︎💧︎ ✋︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎✋︎💧︎📪︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ✌︎👍︎👍︎☜︎🏱︎❄︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ☜︎👍︎☟︎⚐︎☜︎💧︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎☼︎ ✌︎👍︎❄︎✋︎⚐︎☠︎💧︎ 👍︎☼︎☜︎✌︎❄︎☜︎📬︎ ”

He skimmed the parchment, though the words barely made sense. Accepting responsibility for what his choices caused? He already knew the cost of acting–or the lack of it. Why would he be scared of it?

A feather, glowing pale silver, materialized in his left hand.

THE FATE THAT I FORGE WILL BE CHOSEN BY MINE OWN FREE WILL.

He pressed the feather to parchment and scrawled one word:

CLOVER

The contract erupted into gray fire, curling into smoke that vanished into the void.

“✋︎❄︎ ✋︎💧︎ 👎︎⚐︎☠︎☜︎📬︎” The figure’s voice reverberated like a bell. “✡︎︎⚐︎︎🕆︎︎ 👍︎︎✌︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎⚐︎︎❄︎︎ ☜︎︎💧︎︎👍︎︎✌︎︎🏱︎︎☜︎︎ ❄︎︎✋︎︎💣︎︎☜︎︎ ✌︎︎💧︎︎ ✋︎︎❄︎︎ 🕈︎︎✋︎︎☹︎︎☹︎︎ 👌︎︎☼︎︎✋︎︎☠︎︎☝︎︎ 🕆︎︎💧︎︎ ❄︎︎☟︎︎☜︎︎ 💧︎︎✌︎︎💣︎︎☜︎︎ ☜︎︎☠︎︎👎︎︎📬︎︎ ☼︎︎🕆︎︎✋︎︎☠︎︎ 🕈︎︎✋︎︎☹︎︎☹︎︎ 👍︎︎⚐︎︎💣︎︎☜︎︎📪︎︎ ⚐︎︎☠︎︎☜︎︎ 🕈︎︎✌︎︎✡︎︎ ⚐︎︎☼︎︎ ✌︎︎☠︎︎⚐︎︎❄︎︎☟︎︎☜︎︎☼︎︎📬︎︎ 👌︎︎🕆︎︎❄︎︎ 🏱︎︎☜︎︎☼︎︎☟︎︎✌︎︎🏱︎︎💧︎︎⑤︎︎ ✡︎︎⚐︎︎🕆︎︎ 💣︎︎✌︎︎✡︎︎ ✡︎︎☜︎︎❄︎︎ 👎︎︎☜︎︎☞︎︎✡︎︎ ☼︎︎🕆︎︎✋︎︎☠︎︎ ✌︎︎☠︎︎👎︎︎ 🏱︎︎☼︎︎⚐︎︎❄︎︎☜︎︎👍︎︎❄︎︎ ❄︎︎☟︎︎⚐︎︎💧︎︎☜︎︎ ✡︎︎⚐︎︎🕆︎︎ 👍︎︎☟︎︎☜︎︎☼︎︎✋︎︎💧︎︎☟︎︎📬︎︎”

The figure turned, beginning to fade.

“🕆︎☠︎❄︎✋︎☹︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ❄︎✋︎💣︎☜︎ ✋︎💧︎ ☼︎✋︎☝︎☟︎❄︎📪︎ ☝︎⚐︎⚐︎👎︎👌︎✡︎☜︎📪︎ 👍︎☹︎⚐︎✞︎☜︎☼︎📬︎ ✋︎ ☜︎✠︎🏱︎☜︎👍︎❄︎ ☝︎☼︎☜︎✌︎❄︎ 👍︎☟︎✌︎☠︎☝︎☜︎ ☞︎☼︎⚐︎💣︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎📬︎”

Time jolted back into motion. The gray dissolved, and Clover found himself staring once more at the revolver in his hand.

Lorien sneered. “What’s the matter? Afraid to actually use it?”

Then another voice–fierce but warm–echoed in Clover’s mind.

“Go on, use it.”

His barriers wouldn’t be enough to take down Lorien. He needed something more. Someone… more experienced.

Without hesitation, Clover pressed the revolver to his own head.

“What the—?!” Lorien’s eyes widened. “Have you lost your damn mind!? ”

The hammer clicked, shifting the chamber. The cyan slipped past. The burning orange aligned.

And Clover pulled the trigger.

The bullet pierced him–not with pain, but with memory. A flood of emotions roared through him: anger, vengeance, fear, regret, love. But above all– Bravery.

“I remember.” His voice shook, not of his own but of another. “I’m Theron. ”

His eyes blazed, cyan burned away, replaced by a brilliant, searing orange.

“I get it now.” Clover raised his head, eyes burning as they locked with Lorien’s. “This time, I’m taking you down!”

Lorien froze. For a heartbeat, silence. Then he broke into laughter–wild, jagged, and bitter. “I almost believed you weren’t her. But of course–you are! Alma, you sly human! You almost had me fooled!”

Clover’s brow furrowed. “ …Alma? Who’s—?”

But Lorien’s laughter only grew harsher.

“Let’s end this now!” Theron’s voice reverberated within him, steady and fierce.

Clover tightened his grip on the weapon, nodding once. “…Right.”

Without thinking twice they slide down towards where Lorien was.

The real battle was only just beginning.

…

…

…

The main issue Clover faced was Lorien’s insistence on fighting in the turn-based style—something Clover hated. Sure, it gave him time to think about his next move, but it also gave Lorien the same advantage. And Clover knew he couldn’t win if he didn’t keep the pressure on.

Finally, the shift came.

The world bled into monochrome–It was Clover’s turn first.

“...Shoot his neck.” Theron’s voice echoed.

Clover grimaced, shoot Lorien? As much as he hated the man, killing him wasn’t exactly on the table.

“Are we being serious right now?”

“Yes?” 

They sighed when Clover refused to do anything. “Fine, shoot his ankle.”

Now that was more like it. Clover shoved a random type of ammo into his revolver and squeezed the trigger. The shot blasted into Lorien’s ankle, knocking the boss to the ground.

He waited for Lorien to do something except, that never came.

“…What was supposed to—”

Lorien chuckled slowly, clutching his head. “I see you remembered that mage’s teachings.”

Clover blinked. Wait, did the attack disoriented him?

“You can go again,” Theron prompted. “Every monster has weak points. Take advantage of them.”

That was Interesting… If he could keep Lorien off balance, maybe he had a proper chance. But to pry Theron’s Soul from Lorien, he’d need him to be immobilized.

Clover’s revolver shimmered, shifting into a length of rope. He straightened it into a lasso and glanced at the discarded pellets now scattered on the ground. ‘Guess they don’t carry over into the rope form,’ he thought.

He hurled the lasso, the rope looping around Lorien.

The boss sneered. “You have me at a disadvantage… and you choose to restrain me?”

“...Yeah,” Clover said, tightening the rope. “I’m not like you.”

He took a step closer—

“Get away from him, now!” Theron’s voice screamed.

Clover sprang back just in time as blades erupted from the ground, shredding the rope to ribbons.

“W-wait–wasn’t it my turn?!” Clover stammered.

Lorien smirked but said nothing as he stood back up.

It became Clover’s turn again. He had the ability to get two actions now, but even with that advantage, Lorien’s sheer strength made fighting him head-on impossible. He needed speed—something to tilt the rules.

‘Hey, remember that speed-up thing against the Black Suits?’ Clover asked. ‘Think I can do that too?’

Theron hesitated. “…You saw that?”

“Yeah.”

“You likely can, we share the same burden with our Souls.”

Clover steadied himself. He aimed wide, deliberately missing. The shot cracked through the arena’s barrier, the frozen world fracturing back into color.

Without hesitating, Clover tore his own Soul from his chest, letting it float in the open.

-5 HP.

The pain reverberated through him immediately.

-10 HP.

“Careful,” Theron warned. “You’ve only got 6 HP left.”

Clover grit his teeth, yanking his Soul back into place. His vision blurred, his knees shaking.

Lorien frowned. “Are you giving up?”

“No!” Clover shouted hoarsely. “Just…learning!”

It was reckless, but he had one last gamble. He lifted the revolver to his temple, clicked the chamber to an orange pellet, and pulled the trigger.

A radiant light burst beneath Lorien’s coat.

“What—?!” Lorien staggered, frozen mid-step.

Time slowed to a crawl.

The Bravery Soul’s glow cut through the monochrome, blazing like a beacon. It wasn’t his, but another human’s power–a gift from someone who didn’t even know him. Clover felt it: a connection, a bridge.

The power that surged through him wasn’t his, but of the other humans. They lent him a hand despite not knowing him, they entrusted that what he was doing was Just.

The connection that had been made made him feel HOPE.

“Hurry it up,” Theron urged, their voice cracked with strain. “I can’t… hold on much longer.”

Clover’s gun transformed back into rope. He used the rope to trip over the monster before binding him tightly with the rope. 

“Sorry,” Clover whispered, “but this ends now.”

He dug frantically through Lorien’s coat. His fingers brushed glass–It was the Soul’s container! He yanked it out before—

SNAP!

The rope dissolved, Lorien’s hand shooting up to clamp onto Clover’s skull.

“It’s over!” Lorien snarled, slamming him down into the ground.

-30 HP.

Clover’s Soul cracked instantly.

Where was—!?

Oh, that’s right.

He died.

…

Even with the help of others, he still managed to get himself killed. Some disappointment he turned out to be. He couldn’t even keep his promise to be careful–for Kanako, for the others. He couldn’t help anyone. Every action he took only seemed to make things worse.

Clover let out a sigh. So this was it? Death wasn’t some dramatic end or something like that. It was… silence. The dull, inevitable ticking of a clock running out of time.

He wished he could’ve at least brought Lorien to Justice before he died.

…

Lorien planned to wipe out humanity once he claimed the Souls, didn’t he? That would mean his friends would be safe. But the good humans, the ones who didn’t deserve it, they would die too.

Why did he care though? For every good human, there were countless crueler ones who delighted and indulged in the suffering of others.

Maybe… maybe letting it all end wasn’t so bad.

Ding!

A bell tolled. The clock’s ticking grew louder, sharper, counting down like a judge’s gavel. Each second hammered into him: TICK TOCK TICK TOCK!

…

But Chara was human. If he gave up, they’d be put in harms way.

…

Ah, what was he thinking!?

Clover’s fractured Soul trembled, the cracks halting mid-splinter.

“No!” His thoughts were hazy but, he refused to fall like this. “Not while I can still do something!”

The steady tick-tick-tick stuttered, then faltered, then reversed.

The hands of the clock spun backward, faster and faster, until the sound became a roar, rattling through the void.

His Soul blazed with new light, fragments stitching together in defiance.

He wasn’t done yet, not until Justice was served!

“Hngh!” Clover grunted, forcing himself to stay upright. His vision swam, but he caught sight of Lorien clutching a capsule, no doubt to contain his Soul.

“What the—?!”

Instinct took over, Clover jammed whatever ammo he had into his revolver and fired point-blank. The blast struck Lorien square, staggering him backward in a dazed recoil.

“You died!” Lorien snarled, eyes wide. “Your Soul was cracking apart, how did you come back from death!?”

Clover’s breath came heavy, his chest aching with every inhale. “…Guess I’m just lucky.”

Ironic considering who he was.

But it didn’t matter. He had one clear thought cutting through the haze, just stall him until Kanako and the others return.

Now that he could do.

“Switch to the other!” Theron’s voice rang sharp in his head.

Without hesitation, Clover pressed the revolver to his temple, rotating to the chamber with a cyan pellet. He pulled the trigger, the chamber flashing with cool energy.

All he needed to do was STALL .

…

…

…

“I’d forgotten how much of a rat you were!” Lorien roared as Clover slipped from his grasp. “You may have taken a different form yet you're still the same cowardly mage!”

Clover didn’t bother answering–he was too busy dodging. One hit and it was over. He didn’t know how he ENDURED the fracturing of his Soul but he didn’t think he could do it again.

A blade shot toward him. Clover snapped up a barrier just in time, the impact rattling his bones. His cyan eyes flickered in the glow. Maybe this strange power—these reflexes—was tied to Halcyon. It was the only thing that made sense.

He ducked left, switching to his rope. With a quick sweep, he tripped Lorien and backed away. Hit-and-run, over and over. That was the only way he could keep pace. He couldn’t deal real damage, but stalling? That, he could do.

“You’re pathetic!” Lorien mocked. “You will not escape me!”

Clover gritted his teeth. Flowey’s hatred had seemed impossible to rival, but Lorien’s madness gave it competition.

Suddenly the sound of multiple footsteps started to come closer.

Clover seized the chance to catch his breath. “Took her long enough…”

Lorien sneered. “Could you not face me alone?”

“No shame in asking for help,” Clover shot back.

Theron’s Soul glimmered in his grasp. All he needed was to finish this fight with the others and it would be his.

Lorien’s gaze narrowed. “Then I’ll crush your skull another day.”

A chill ran up Clover’s spine. This guy wasn’t just saying it to say it, he really wanted to do that.

The voices of his allies cut through the tension.

“H-he’s over here!” Kanako’s call rang out.

Ed growled. “That lamb monster picked the wrong place to start trouble!”

“Child,” Rava’s smooth voice added, “you don’t have to come with us.”

Linda’s tone was sharp. “He tore at my memory. I’d regret not seeing this through.”

Clover’s heart clenched, He glared at Lorien. “You did what to her?”

Lorien only shrugged. “It was necessary.” His hand slipped into his coat.

Clover instantly switched his rope back into a revolver, ready to shoot at whatever came out.

“I’ll never understand it,” Lorien sighed. “Why do they choose to protect you? You’re the root of their pain.”

Clover gave an empty laugh. “I don’t get it either.”

Something flickered in Lorien’s eyes. “... How curious.” He pulled out a strange, glimmering pink crystal. “Till next time, Alma.”

Time slowed and Clover aimed.

One.

His revolver screamed. The bullet shattered the crystal just as Lorien tried to crush it.

“You’re not going any–”

A blinding white light swallowed him.

“—where?”

When Clover’s vision cleared, the Wild East was gone. Sand and rock replaced by snow and pines. Lorien was nowhere.

“What…?” Clover staggered, disoriented. Something within him felt empty, like it had been disconnected from him.

He checked his revolver. The orange pellet was gone. There was no time to panic, the frost was already starting to bite at him.

“No way I went through all that just to freeze…”

He crawled to a dead log. Sticks and leaves lay scattered around it. There was enough for a fire, if only he had the right tools.

‘Wait.’

Fire pellets.

Clover fumbled through his bag, pulling out Blackjack’s book he had gotten back at the Wild East Festival. He flipped to the right page and groaned. The recipe called for tools and a workbench, neither of which he had.

He sighed . ‘Guess I’ll have to improvise.’

A shoddy attempt later, he jammed a rough fire pellet into his revolver.

BaNg?!

Clover grimaced. ‘Oh, that sounded really bad.’

The shot sparked against the bundle of sticks, flames crawling across the brittle wood until they caught. He added more leaves, coaxing the fire to life. The warmth bled against the frozen air, small but defiant against the cold.

Clover let himself sink against the dead log. His chest still heaved, his fingers still trembled, but he was alive. Against everything he had lived–failed but alive.

The fire cracked softly, fighting the cold the way he fought despair. Clover stared into the flickering light, his vision heavy, his body aching.

Just a moment of rest. That’s all he needed.

The fire popped as the snow fell silently.

“Just…a small break.”

And he drifted off to a slumber, one that was well deserved.