Reset: Once Upon a Time

The man's voice stirred once more, pulling the girl back from her thoughts.

"Frisk chose mercy," he said, almost in awe. "And with each spared soul, the path ahead grew harder."

He rested his hands once again in the wide sleeves of his robe, his face still obscured by the shadow of his hood.

"At first, it was simple. Monsters like Napstablook, who didn't really want to fight. They simply needed kindness, a moment of patience… Frisk offered it. Chara watched silently, unsure, but intrigued."

He shifted slightly where he sat. "But then came harder trials. Toriel, for one."

The girl perked up at the name.

"Yes, she loved Frisk like her own child… but she also feared for them. She tried to keep them from leaving the Ruins, from entering the world she believed would destroy them. When Frisk refused to fight her, she became relentless. Each fireball, each strike—it wasn't out of hatred, but desperation."

The girl's breath caught quietly, her hands wrapped tightly around the book.

"Frisk didn't retaliate. They dodged. They endured. They showed mercy even as they were tested again and again. And when Toriel realized this, when she saw they would not fight back… she broke down. She saw something in them—something she hadn't seen in a long time."

He nodded slowly. "She let them go. Not because she wanted to, but because she trusted them."

There was a long pause, and then the man continued.

"Papyrus was next. A skeleton knight with dreams of grandeur. He didn't truly wish to harm anyone, either. But he wanted to capture a human to earn the respect he believed he lacked."

The man's voice softened with humor. "He was a puzzle-maker, a brother, a fool—perhaps—but he had a good heart."

"Frisk played along with his puzzles, humored his theatrics, and eventually… made him laugh. Made him question why he was doing what he was doing. And then, when the battle came, Frisk refused to hurt him. Even when Papyrus launched attack after attack, Frisk stood firm in their resolve. And when it was over…"

He chuckled faintly. "Papyrus invited them to be friends."

The girl's eyes sparkled faintly with that.

"But understand this," the man continued, his voice turning solemn again. "The more mercy they showed, the more determined the Underground became to stop them. Mercy was seen as weakness by some, and others feared what such compassion might mean."

He leaned forward slightly, rain dotting the folds of his cloak. "Each spared soul made the road harder. Kindness doesn't always soften hearts. Sometimes… it hardens resistance."

A silence hung between them, the only sound the wind brushing the stones.

The girl tilted her head, ever so slightly, her expression pensive.

"Yes," the man murmured, as if responding to a thought. "Mercy was Frisk's choice. But it wasn't the easy one."

He folded his arms once more. "And Chara… began to ask questions. Not out loud, but in quiet moments. Why spare them? What if they attack again? What if kindness isn't enough?"

The girl blinked slowly.

"But Frisk didn't waver." He smiled faintly. "Not yet."

"And so," he whispered, "we follow them deeper… into the Underground."

He leaned back, shadow cast heavy across where his face would be. "Even now… I wonder if I would've made the same choices."

The girl looked down briefly, clutching her book tighter.

The rain had softened to a mist now, clinging to the rocks and leaves as the man's voice resumed, cloaked in calm gravity.

"Undyne," he said, his hands folded in his lap. "She was different."

The girl looked up slowly.

"She was no Napstablook, nor Papyrus. Undyne believed in strength. In duty. In defending her people at all costs. Mercy, to her, was surrender. And Frisk… Frisk challenged that belief simply by existing."

He paused, the hood shadowing his face as always, though his tone held a flicker of intensity.

"She chased them through Waterfall. At first, a hunter pursuing prey. Spears rained down like judgment. She gave no warning. No pause. Her message was simple: leave, or be destroyed."

The girl's eyes widened faintly. The image was vivid.

"But Frisk never attacked. Not once. They ran. They dodged. They faltered. Yet, again and again, they extended mercy."

A moment of silence passed, filled only by the rustle of misty wind.

"And somewhere, amidst all that fury, Undyne began to hesitate."

The man turned his head slightly, still never revealing his face. "Chara was there, watching. At first, furious. They didn't understand. Why keep sparing someone trying to kill you? But Frisk… they believed. Truly believed in another way."

He lifted a hand, gesturing faintly. "Undyne forced Frisk into one final stand. Backed against a cliff of sheer stone and silence, it should've been the end. But instead of raising a weapon, Frisk looked her in the eyes—and smiled."

The girl blinked.

"Something broke. Undyne didn't admit defeat, not then. But a crack formed in her armor."

The man leaned back again. "It was only later, in the heat of a collapsing world, that she remembered that smile."

He let the silence hang again, then nodded.

"Frisk's resolve was powerful, but it wasn't just determination. It was compassion. And compassion, in a world built on fear… is a dangerous thing."

The girl slowly lowered her gaze to her lap, the book resting open but untouched.

"Tell me," he said softly, voice like a whisper through leaves, "what would you have done?"

She didn't answer. Only pressed a hand gently over her heart.

The man gave a single nod.

"I wondered the same. Often."

His voice dropped again to that distant, narrative tone.

"And so, Frisk moved forward. Undyne would not be the last wall to climb, nor the last heart to change. But she was the first that truly pushed Frisk to the edge."

A breeze stirred his robe, and the girl caught another glimpse of the shadowed hood—deep, unknowable, never showing what lay beneath.