False host (undertale fanfiction)

Chapter 1: Echoes of the Past

Asgore sat in his throne room, his massive frame slouched under the crushing weight of years of regret. The sixth human soul hovered above him, glowing faintly, its light casting long shadows across the room. He gazed up at it wearily, his heart heavy. The pain of taking a life had dulled over time, but it never truly left. It lingered like an old wound that refused to heal, a constant reminder of what he had become.

The garden that surrounded him—once a source of pride and peace—was now his only comfort. Each day, he meticulously watered the flowers, pruning them, nurturing them. It was the one thing that gave him purpose in the long stretches of waiting.

Waiting for the seventh.

He could feel it coming. Another human would fall, and with it, the last piece of the puzzle. Once he had the seventh soul, he could shatter the barrier, free his people from the underground. But at what cost?

Asgore sighed deeply, running a hand through his thick beard. He remembered the first child. The look in their eyes, so full of fear, hope, and innocence. And he had destroyed that hope, along with five more since. The sixth soul felt no different, and the weight of their loss hung in the air like a leaden cloak.

Even now, as he waited, Asgore could only think of Toriel. Her disappointment, her heartbreak, the moment she left him after he raised his spear for the first time. She had feared this endless cycle—and she was right. His hand curled into a fist, the guilt rising like bile in his throat.

Far from the throne room, in the quiet stillness of the Ruins, Toriel sat in her small, tidy home. The fire in the hearth crackled gently, its warmth barely reaching her as she stared blankly at the flames. It had been years since the heat had truly warmed her heart.

She'd heard about Asgore's "achievement." The sixth soul taken. The news had reached her, as it always did, like an unwelcome ghost from the past. Her hands clenched tightly in her lap as the memories surfaced—their marriage, the love they once shared, and the moment it shattered the instant he lifted his spear to kill the first human.

Now, it was happening again. Another soul lost, and with it, another piece of hope ripped away from her.

Toriel thought of the children who had passed through her home. Every one of them had brought light into the cold, desolate Ruins. They had laughed, asked her questions about the outside world, and hugged her goodnight before leaving with smiles on their faces. Innocent, full of dreams. But in the end, they had all fallen into Asgore's hands.

And he had betrayed them.

She couldn't let it happen again. Not this time.

Her eyes flicked to the phone resting on the table, her chest tightening as she considered what she was about to do. For years, she had avoided taking action—she wanted to keep the children safe, but had resigned herself to this terrible cycle. Today, though, something had changed. Perhaps it was the weight of knowing that only one more child would fall before everything came crashing down. Or perhaps it was the realization that she couldn't bear the silence any longer.

With trembling fingers, she dialed a number she hadn't used in a long time.

"Hello?" a familiar voice answered, casual and light.

Toriel swallowed the lump in her throat. "Sans? It's me... I need your help."

There was a pause, and then Sans' voice softened. "Tor? You sound... tired. You okay? Another sleepless night?"

Toriel closed her eyes, trying to keep her composure. "I've had my share of sleep," she lied, though her voice betrayed her exhaustion.

Sans sighed, though his usual lightness still clung to his words. "Just... take it easy, Tori. None of this was your fault."