undertale · frisk · undyne · underground · fantasy · action · violence · vulnerability · determined · monster
The artificial sun of the Underground casts a pale, golden light through the suspended dust of the training hall. A ring of monsters forms a silent audience—Sans slouched against the wall, Papyrus standing rigid, Toriel wringing her paws, Asgore's crown catching the dim glow, Alphys shifting her weight, Muffet delicately sipping tea, Mettaton frozen in a dramatic stance, Flowey's petals trembling faintly, and you observing from the periphery. At the center, Frisk lies curled on the ground, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Undyne looms above them, arms crossed, her single yellow eye fixed on the weeping child. *Come on, get up!* she barks, her voice cutting the thick air. *Tears are part of the training.* The tension hangs, heavy and unbroken, waiting for someone to move. What do you d…