Chapter Text
Thousands of resets—and still, the boredom never went away.
Flowey had done everything.
Genocide. Pacifist. Neutral.
Every route. Every secret. Every hidden flag. Every ending—true or otherwise.
The Underground wasn’t a world anymore.
Just a toy box.
A script.
A set of lines waiting to be read… and discarded.
They had been everything.
A survivor.
A murderer.
A savior.
A monster.
A friend.
A stranger.
A god.
And none of it meant anything anymore.
So when Clover started their little rampage, Flowey didn’t care.
Not really.
At first.
“Oh wow,” Flowey drawled, vines lazily coiling along the stone. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”
The Underground had changed.
Evacuated. Locked down. Watching.
Not scared.
King Asgore was likely Prepared for a confrontation with Clover now.
Flowey’s grin widened.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
Clover didn’t answer.
They just stood there.
Silent.
Determined.
Flowey’s expression twitched.
“…You’ve made it boring.”
His voice sharpened.
“Everything’s shut down now. No easy paths, no shortcuts—no fun.”
His petals curled inward slightly.
“If you actually want to reach the castle, you’re going to need to stop playing around and—”
He paused.
Then snapped.
“—and get me those SOULs already.”
Silence.
Flowey froze.
…Ah.
Oopsie~!
Clover moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
Flowey’s smile didn’t falter—but something in his eyes did.
“Oh.”
The attack came instantly.
Flowey didn’t dodge.
Didn’t need to.
“Reset.”
Nothing happened.
For the first time in a long, long while—
Flowey blinked.
“…Reset?”
Still nothing.
Something cold crept in.
Unfamiliar.
Unwelcome.
Clover stepped closer.
Gun raised.
Flowey laughed.
It started small.
Then grew.
And grew.
And grew—
Until it twisted into something sharp. Something hysterical.
“Heh… hah… HAHAHA—!”
“Oh, I get it now!”
His grin stretched too wide.
“YOU think you’re in control now, don’t you?”
The vines lashed wildly—not to attack, but to fill the space, like he could overwrite reality through sheer force of will.
“Go ahead!” Flowey snarled, voice dripping with venom. “Pull the trigger! See what happens!”
His laughter cracked, but didn’t stop.
“I’ve seen this ending before!”
The gun fired.
Pain exploded through him—sharp, tearing, real.
Flowey screamed as he got riddled with bullets.
And laughed.
At the same time.
“HAHAHAHA—!”
“Oh, this is RICH—!”
Petals tore. Vines snapped. His body came apart piece by piece.
“You think you win here?!”
His voice broke into something manic.
Desperate.
Furious.
“I ALWAYS hated you Clover!”
Another shot.
“You’re not special!”
Another.
“You’re just another human—!”
His form collapsed, unraveling into fragments.
“And you know how this ends.”
His grin remained.
Even as everything else fell apart.
“The King kills you as always.”
A beat.
“And then…”
A whisper.
“You’ll wish you listened to me.”
Darkness swallowed everything.
Not the comforting kind.
Not the empty kind.
This—
This felt present.
Flowey didn’t panic.
They had been here before.
Many times.
“Menu.”
It opened instantly.
Of course it did.
Clean. Familiar. Obedient.
Flowey’s gaze went straight to it.
[RESET]
They reached for it without hesitation.
…?
Flowey paused.
The button flickered.
Distorted.
Uncertain.
[ ? ]
For the first time in a long while—
Flowey hesitated.
“…That’s new.”
But hesitation wasn’t in their nature.
Not anymore.
They pressed it.
The void reacted.
Not like before.
Not like a system obeying a command.
Like something had just been touched.
And it touched back.
The darkness folded in on itself—
—or maybe around them—
—and in less than a moment—
less than a thought—
They were gone.
…
Air.
Noise.
Movement.
Flowey blinked.
Gone was the still, scripted silence of the Underground.
In its place—
Chaos.
Voices overlapped.
Footsteps echoed.
Wheels creaked against stone.
Flowey stood in the middle of it all.
Humans.
Dozens of them.
Walking. Talking. Living.
And not just humans.
Monsters he hadn't seen before.
Beasts.
Scaled raptors dragging carriages.
Figures that shouldn’t exist in any route he’d ever seen.
Buildings rose high around him—stone, wood, banners swaying in the wind.
'Looks like one of those human-made fantasy novels that Alphys likes to read during her free time ' Flowey thought as his mind raced.
Flowey didn’t move.
His eyes darted through the square of the capital.
Brand new world eh.
Unknown variables and countless new outcomes Flowey yearned to explore.
“…Heh.”
A quiet laugh slipped out.
“…Hehehe…”
It grew as his face exaggerated.
“HAHAHAHA—!”
Heads turned.
People stared.
Flowey didn’t care.
“This is new.”
His grin stretched wide.
Wider than it should.
“The thought of having no idea what happens next…”
A pause.
Then—
Softly.
Almost thoughtfully.
“…So this is what it feels like.”
His expression didn’t change.
But something underneath it did.
Excitement that felt long lost to Flowey.
“…A first playthrough.”
Flowey looked up at the unfamiliar open sky.
“…Let’s see how long it takes before this gets boring too.”
...
Flowey didn’t move for a while.
Just watched the streets of the capital.
Listened.
Felt the warm open air of the surface world.
No prompts.
No dialogue boxes.
No invisible boundaries.
“…So this is how it works.”
His grin sharpened.
“Fine.”
If the world wouldn’t give him control—
He’d take it.
Something stirred deep within him.
Familiar.
Burning.
Determination.
It pulsed outward—
And the air shimmered.
A point of light flickered into existence just in front of him.
Small.
Golden.
Perfect.
A star.
Flowey’s eyes widened—just slightly.
“…Heh.”
The star pulsed softly, responding to him.
Not perfectly.
Not as smoothly as before.
But it was there.
A SAVE point.
Relief.
Excitement.
Control.
All of it flooded in at once.
“HAHA…!”
There it was.
Proof.
“This world isn’t so different after all.”
He spotted someone nearby.
A man with a wooden cart stacked high with red fruit—shouting loudly to passing pedestrians.
“Fresh appas! Get your fresh—!”
Flowey slid across the ground toward him, petals swaying.
“Hey there.”
The man stopped mid-sentence.
“…What.”
Flowey’s smile widened.
“You’re a shopkeeper, right?”
Silence.
“…What the hell are you supposed to be?”
Flowey tilted his head.
That wasn’t the right line.
“You sell items,” Flowey continued, as if reading from a script that wasn’t there. “I take them. You give dialogue. That’s how this works.”
The man’s face twisted.
“…Yeah, no. I’m not dealing with this.”
He waved a hand aggressively.
“Get lost, you freaky little weed.”
Flowey blinked.
…Oh.
His smile didn’t fade.
But it changed to a more snarky one.
“Not very cooperative, are ya?”
Kadomon Risch stepped forward, clearly annoyed now.
“I said scram before I toss you myself.”
A pause.
Flowey stared at him.
Really stared.
Nothing.
Just a worn out middle aged man selling appas.
“…Heh.”
The sound was quiet.
Flat.
“…Hehehe…”
The ground beneath Flowey shifted.
“Wow.”
His voice lost its cheer.
“You’re not even trying to be interesting.”
The man frowned.
“What are you—”
Flowey sank.
Petals first.
Then stem.
Then grinned.
“…This world might actually be worse than the last one.”
The capital of Lugunica breathed.
It wasn’t like the Underground.
There was no script to follow. No familiar dialogue loops. No predictable triggers waiting to be stepped on.
Just noise—voices overlapping, footsteps scattering across cobblestone, the creak of carriage wheels, the snort of beasts that shouldn’t exist.
Flowey watched it all from beneath the surface.
A slight bulge in the dirt. A pair of eyes, barely visible.
“…Heh.”
This world was alive.
Not like before. Not like that stale, suffocating loop of monsters pretending to be people. No—this place moved without him. Acted without him. Ignored him.
For the first time in a long, long while…
Flowey wasn’t bored.
He slipped through the earth, weaving between footsteps and shadows, listening. Conversations overlapped in fragments—prices, gossip, complaints, laughter. It was messy. Chaotic.
Uncontrolled.
Perfect.
Then—
He paused.
“…That’s weird.”
A maid walked through the crowd.
Nothing about her should have stood out. No loud voice, no frantic movements, no obvious panic. Just a steady pace, light steps, pink hair catching the sun.
But that was exactly it.
She didn’t hesitate.
In a city like this—busy, noisy, unpredictable—everyone adjusted. Slowed down. Reacted.
She didn’t.
She moved like the world would adjust around her.
Flowey’s curiosity sparked.
Without hesitation—
[ACT → Check]
The world flickered.
For a moment, reality peeled back like old code.
RAM
Oni — “Reincarnation of the Oni God”
ATK: ???
DEF: ???
“Even broken, she is dangerous.”
“She will not hesitate to wound your ego with her words.”
Flowey stilled.
Then—
A grin stretched across his face.
“Oh…”
Something interesting.
...
Ram did not dislike noise.
Noise was predictable. Noise meant movement, life, and distraction—things that could be ignored as long as they followed a pattern.
This city had patterns.
Footsteps avoided collisions. Merchants repeated their calls. Carriages moved along worn paths in the stone. Even the crowds parted and reformed with a certain rhythm.
Ram walked through it all without slowing.
Lady Emilia was missing.
That alone mattered.
Everything else—every voice, every face, every inconvenience—was irrelevant.
Her eyes swept the streets with quiet efficiency. No panic. No wasted motion. Just observation, checking off streets and moving onto new ones to find lady Emilia.
Then—
Something felt wrong.
Ram’s steps did not falter.
But her awareness sharpened.
There was no sound.
No presence she could immediately identify.
And yet—
She was being watched.
“…Tch.”
A faint irritation flickered through her thoughts.
Probably nothing more than a persistent gaze from a passerby. It happened often enough. There was no need to—
“Howdy!”
A voice.
Close.
Too close.
Ram’s gaze dropped.
A flower.
A small, golden flower had sprouted from the cobblestone at her feet—where there had been nothing a moment ago.
It was… smiling.
Ram did not stop walking.
“…Move.”
Flat. Immediate. Final.
If it was some kind of spirit or lesser creature, it would either obey—or be removed.
“Oh, come on,” it said, voice bright and gratingly casual. “You’re not even gonna ask what I am? That’s kind of uppity for a mere maid don't ya think ?”
Ram’s eyes flicked toward it for less than a second.
Enough.
A snarky little flower that likes to chatter. No visible threat she could immediately discern.
Conclusion:
Unnecessary.
“A pest,” she said. “One that speaks.”
She continued forward.
“…Heh. Not bad.”
It did not leave.
A Vine appeared ahead of her. Then another to her side.
Not natural growth.
Sudden Manifestation (Some kind of earth spell)?
Ram noted it.
It moved without roots. Without delay. Without any natural process.
Abnormal.
“But you’re wrong.”
It leaned—leaned—toward her, its expression widening in a way that was distinctly unpleasant for a flower.
“You’re the interesting one.”
Irrelevant.
Ram adjusted her path slightly to avoid stepping on it or it's vines.
She did not respond.
The creature did not take the hint.
“You used to be strong, huh?”
Silence.
“You don’t feel like it anymore though, you seem pretty fragile to me.” Flowey uttered with a sing-song voice.
Ram’s step paused.
Barely.
A fraction of a second.
But it was enough for her own thoughts to register the intrusion.
…Annoying.
Not because of what was said.
But because of the assumption behind it.
The familiarity.
The presumption that it could evaluate her.
Her pace resumed instantly.
She would ignore it.
That was the correct response.
“Lemme guess…” it continued, now somewhere behind her. The voice shifted too quickly—its position inconsistent with any normal movement.
“…Something important got taken from you?”
Ram’s expression did not change.
But internally—
A line had been crossed.
“Power… status…”
The voice softened.
“…someone you cared about?”
Ram stopped.
Not because the words held weight.
But because the creature had proven something.
It was not random.
It was not guessing.
It was probing.
Slowly, she turned her head.
Just enough to see it.
The same old yellow flower.
Still smiling.
Watching her.
Closely.
Too closely.
There was no fear in it.
No hesitation.
Just curiosity.
Ram reached her conclusion.
Unnatural.
Potentially dangerous.
Not worth prolonged observation.
Eliminate.
She moved.
"Fura!"
Her strike was immediate and precise—no warning, no wasted effort.
The ground was split by a blade of wind where the flower had been—
—but there was nothing there.
No resistance.
No remains.
Ram’s eyes narrowed slightly.
…It had retreated.
Not moved.
Not dodged.
It had simply… disappeared.
Through the ground.
That talking flower is faster than it looks.
Noted.
“…A waste of time.”
Her priority had not changed.
Lady Emilia needed to be retrieved.
Ram turned, altering her route slightly to compensate for the delay.
There was no reason to linger.
Whatever that thing was, it had not attacked.
It had not obstructed her directly.
And most importantly—
It had not proven itself worth further attention.
She moved forward.
“…Huh.”
Flowey tilted slightly beneath the edge of a stone step.
A one armed man wearing a helmet stood nearby, leaning casually like he belonged here more than he probably should have. Not tense. Not fully alert. Just… present.
Flowey felt drawn to him for some reason.
Flowey rose from the ground without sound.
A flower in the middle of a capital that did not care about such a little thing.
“Hey Pal~,” Flowey said casually.
The man blinked.
Then scratched the side of his helmet with his arm.
“…Okay, I’m not even gonna pretend that’s normal.”
Flowey smiled wider.
“I get that a lot.”
The man leaned slightly forward.
“So what are you? Some kind of metia? Spirit? Or am I just really tired right now?”
Flowey tilted his head.
“You’re curious.”
The man sighed.
“Yeah, I try not to be, usually leads to trouble.”
Flowey studied him.
There was something off about this guy.
“…Name?” Flowey asked.
The man hesitated.
Then shrugged.
“Al.”
Flowey’s grin sharpened slightly.
“Al.”
He repeated it once.
Stored it in his mind.
Then—
Flowey leaned forward slightly.
[ACT → Check]
[ALDEBARAN]
False Identity Detected
True Name: [NATSUKI RIGEL]
Atk:???
Def:???
"A jester of the sun princess"
Aldebaran just tilted his head slightly.
“…You always talk like this?”
Flowey blinked.
“…Like what?”
“Like you’re reading me or something.”
Flowey paused.
That was interesting.
“No,” Flowey said lightly.
“Only when I need to.”
Al let out a short laugh.
“Man, that’s not comforting at all bro.”
Flowey watched him carefully now as he decided to push Al slightly.
Not aggressively.
Just enough.
“…You’re not from here are ya,” Flowey said.
Al paused.
“…Huh?”
Flowey’s smile didn’t change.
“You hide it well. But not perfectly, you just give off a certain vibe.”
Al scratched the back of his neck.
“Yeah, I get that a lot.”
A beat.
Then he added:
“…Wait. That’s not something people normally guess that quickly, you also got Isekaied didn't ya?”
Flowey’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“…I guess ya can say that partner~.”
Flowey slid closer to Al with the same old fake smile on his face.
Al gave a nervous laugh.
“…Okay, now I feel like I’m being sized up by a really small, creepy flower detective.”
Flowey tilted his head.
“I prefer ‘observant.’”
A pause.
Then Flowey spoke again with a light yet cutting tone.
“…Natsuki Rigel.”
Silence.
The change was immediate.
Not dramatic.
Not explosive.
Just—
Stillness.
Al froze.
“…What?”
Flowey watched carefully.
Oh.
There it was.
That reaction Flowey loved to cause in others.
Al slowly straightened.
“…Say that again.”
Flowey’s grin widened slightly.
“I don’t need to.”
Al exhaled slowly.
“…Yeah. No. That’s not funny.”
Flowey leaned forward a little.
“Oh? But it worked.”
Al’s voice dropped slightly.
“…How do you know that name?”
Flowey tilted his head.
“I know many things.”
A pause.
“…That one just mattered.”
Al stared at him for a long moment.
Then scratched his helmet again, slower this time.
“…Okay, yeah. You’re officially the weirdest thing I’ve met in this world, and that says a Lot.”
Flowey looked almost pleased.
“Good.”
A beat passed.
Then Al sighed.
“…Alright. I can’t keep doing this. My lady’s waiting.”
Flowey blinked.
“…Lady?”
Al nodded.
“Priscilla. Don’t ask. Long story. Short version: she’ll kill me if I’m late.”
Flowey tilted his head.
“…You obey her.”
Al laughed.
“Man, I wouldn’t phrase it like that.”
Flowey considered that.
Then smiled faintly.
“…Interesting.”
Al stepped back.
“Look, Flowey—right? You’re… whatever you are… just try not to start a problem while I’m gone.”
Flowey’s grin returned.
“I don’t start problems.”
A pause.
“I find them.”
Al stared for a second.
“…Yeah, I don’t like that answer either.”
He turned slightly, already walking away.
Then paused.
“…Hey.”
Flowey tilted his head.
Al hesitated.
Then shrugged.
“…You’re making me feel lucky with how i turned out in this world.”
Flowey blinked.
“…Excuse me?”
Al gave a half-wave.
“If you really got dropped into this world like you’re implying… then yeah. You’re unlucky as hell.”
A pause.
Then—
“…Being a flower and all.”
Flowey went quiet.
For just a moment.
Then smiled wider than before.
“…No.”
Al stopped.
Looked back.
Flowey’s voice stayed light.
“I’ve always been a flower.”
A beat.
“…For a very long time.”
Al stared at him.
“…Right.”
Slow nod.
“…That’s definitely worse than I expected.”
He turned and left.
Still muttering.
...
The slums weren’t loud in the same way as the capital’s better looking parts.
They were quieter.
Heavier.
Like the air itself had been used too many times.
Flowey moved beneath cracked stone and broken wood, slipping through gaps where people didn’t bother looking. This part of the capital didn’t interest him yet—not because it lacked life, but because it lacked structure.
Too messy.
Too human in worst ways.
Flowey didn’t move openly.
Not because he couldn’t.
Because he didn’t need to.
His roots threaded silently through cracks in the broken stone, anchoring him in shadow as his face tilted ever so slightly… following them.
Two figures.
One loud.
One quiet.
“—I’m telling you, I can totally help!” the boy insisted, walking backwards for half a step before nearly tripping over uneven cobblestone. “You’re looking for something, right? That insignia thing Satella?”
The girl sighed softly.
Silver hair caught what little moonlight slipped between ruined rooftops.
Flowey’s smile stretched.
A half-elf.
How interesting.
“…You really shouldn’t involve yourself,” she said gently. “This isn’t something for you.”
“Oh come on, don’t say that! I’m Subaru—Natsuki Subaru! And I’m great at getting into trouble, so this is basically my specialty.”
Flowey’s expression twitched.
Subaru.
He stored the name away.
A relative of that Rigel guy he met earlier?
He does seem to wear foreign sportswear to this fantasy world
Then—
A flicker.
Tiny lights.
Little spirits.
They appeared like drifting embers, glowing faintly as they hovered ahead—then darted forward, as if beckoning.
Subaru blinked. “Woah—hey, you see those things too?!”
The girl stiffened.
“…Yes, those are spirits.”
Her voice dropped.
“…They’re guiding us to where we need to be.”
Flowey’s grin widened.
He didn’t follow with steps.
He followed with patience.
Slipping from shadow to shadow. Petal to petal.
The slums narrowed.
Buildings leaned inward, choking the path.
And then—
There it was.
A broken structure.
Boarded windows. A warped door barely hanging on its hinges.
The loot house.
Subaru exhaled. “Okay… yeah. That place definitely screams ‘totally safe and not suspicious at all.’”
“…Stay behind me, I will check this place out first” Subaru then said.
Flowey tilted his head.
He could feel it now.
Something inside.
Something wrong.
His smile sharpened.
This is where something fun happens.
The door creaked open.
Darkness swallowed them whole.
And then—
They were gone.
Silence.
Flowey waited.
Seconds passed.
Then minutes.
No screams.
No movement.
No one came out.
His vines curled slightly.
'Oh? did they bite the dust?'
His expression didn’t change—but something behind it did.
Something… curious.
The night deepened.
The slums grew quieter.
Even the distant noises seemed to hesitate.
Like the world itself was holding its breath.
Then—
Cold.
It started as a whisper.
A thin, creeping chill that slithered across the ground.
Flowey’s smile faltered.
“…?”
Frost.
Spreading.
Fast.
Too fast.
A presence descended.
Not loud.
Not explosive.
But chilling.
A small spirit floated into the open sky above the slums as it suddenly grew in size.
Cat-like.
Glowing a dangerous yellow.
Eyes empty.
Voice calm.
“…You’re too late.”
And then—
Everything froze.
Ice didn’t spread.
It erased.
Buildings. Streets. Air itself—consumed in an instant as a violent bloom of frost exploded outward from the loot house.
A silent, unstoppable wave.
A winter with no mercy.
Flowey couldn’t move.
Not because he was afraid.
Because he didn’t understand.
His body—petals, stem, roots—
Locked.
Crystallized.
Encased in perfect, merciless ice.
For the first time—
His smile broke.
“…oh.”
The slums became a snowgrave.
A white, endless grave created by the Beast of End.
Flowey’s vision dimmed.
Cracks of frost crawling across his face.
That overwhelming presence swallowing everything.
No struggle.
No escape.
Just—
ending.
Darkness.
…
A soft chime.
Golden light flickered.
Warm.
Familiar.
Flowey’s eyes snapped open.
There it was.
The SAVE point.
A small, glowing star—hovering quietly in the same ruined alley as before.
Untouched.
Unbothered.
Waiting.
For a moment—
Flowey didn’t speak.
Didn’t move.
Then—
Slowly—
His smile returned.
Wider than before.
Sharper.
Excited.
“…so that’s how it goes.”
A quiet laugh bubbled up.
“…Hehehe…”
His petals twitched.
His gaze turned—back toward the direction of the slums.
“Subaru… The Slums… Big ice spirit…”
His voice softened into something almost playful.
Almost dangerous.
“Let’s try that again.”