Derivations of L.O.V.E.

Another Anti-void?

The glass shattered under his mallet, and Ink laughed euphorically as shards flew everywhere. A sliver cut him across the face but he did not care, too lost in the hypnotic glow of pure, red, determination. Red dripped from the tube, staining the floor. It bathed the whole room in scarlet light. Ink fell to his knees beside the liquid, marveling at the color around him.

So beautiful...

Souls created such pure energy. Even Ink, as a god of his world, could not achieve the specific kind of power that the humans wield with their beating red heart. Forget Error. This pure, liquid soul surpassed him by far. Ink had a far better option right in front of him, ripe for the taking.

But what about Gaster? What about the truth of this world?

It didn't matter. He could deal with it afterward.

The creator leaned over the lethargic puddles, seeing his reflection in the liquid. A faint wavy outline appeared in the spill, and in reflection, his blank red eyes held a red tint. His ink vials allowed him to feel emotion, but in reality, they weren't some kind of magical paint. They were little bits of condensed soul energy. In theory, siphoning off the souls of others would work just as well in keeping him fed. Ink hesitated. Should he take the energy that the spire had been forcefully taking from others? Capitalizing from so much suffering wasn't really something a hero would do.

He shook his head, the doubt dispelling into smoke. He had no reason to not take the soul liquid. It was extracted in a cruel manner, so Ink could rightfully steal it. If it served a good purpose, the inherent horror of collecting innocents' souls already defiled said purpose. If not...well, even better.

Though his "emotional" self may struggle with the morality of the situation, he currently felt nothing at the thought. Any consideration over right and wrong was only to avoid future suffering.

Ink reached out a hand, the tips of his bony fingers creating ripples across the red, disrupting the still reflection. He felt a rush of power flow into his fingers like an electric shock, and he pitched forward into the liquid.

The voice which had reached a crescendo, deriding and begging and cursing in his head, went mercifully silent, before-

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

The floor became transparent under his hands and he collapsed through it, the whole world becoming duller as he fell into the reality overlaid with this one. Ink slumped onto the ground like a puppet with torn strings, suddenly tired as the raw energy ebbed from his body. The tip of the spire was replaced by a pure black space, as far as the eye can see.

"This wasn't supposed to happen." the creator muttered, before falling unconscious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ink awoke to someone shaking his shoulder.

He blinked the dark spots out of his eyes, sitting up. The monster released him, standing at a distance as he came to his bearings. Ink sat up, surveying his surroundings.

Around him was darkness, bereft of anything that could signify their location. He could not differentiate the ground he stood upon from any other part of the space. The creator frowned. At least in the Void, Ink knew exactly where he was and how he got there. This dimension was completely unknown to him, and it got under his skin.

A Toriel watched him from the side, her light green dress flowing despite the lack of wind. Life, he recognized immediately, what in Toby's name is she doing here? She may know something about his situation, considering she has been awake for longer. He was ignorant to the amount of time she had spent in here, but it must be more than his, and that was enough to warrant asking.