The man's voice took on a different rhythm now—faster, brighter, like the flickering of stage lights before a performance begins. The girl shifted where she sat, unconsciously leaning forward.
"Mettaton EX," he said, his hands folded in his lap. "Was not just a machine. He was a show."
* * * * *
The doors opened with a flourish of sparks and a dramatic sting of music. Lights burst from hidden panels. The metal floor shifted beneath Frisk's feet, transforming into a shining stage. It was absurd. Dazzling. A synthetic fever dream.
And at the centre, rising in a column of golden light—
"HELLO, DARLING~!"
Mettaton EX.
Sleek. Stylized. Perfectly poised. Arms outstretched, one leg bent in a flawless model pose. The air pulsed with music as fog machines hissed from every direction.
Frisk blinked.
Chara sighed. You've got to be kidding me.
But Mettaton wasn't joking.
He danced across the stage with magnetic flair, every word rehearsed, every movement polished. Spotlights chased him like he was the sun, and the Underground's eyes—those watching through hidden cameras and flickering screens—were locked on him.
"THIS… is the moment you've all been waiting for!" he sang, glitter trailing his path. "A duel of destiny! The child of mercy… against the STAR of the UNDERGROUND!"
Frisk didn't raise a hand. They didn't need to.
Because they saw the flicker in Mettaton's eye. Not the shining one.
The one beneath it.
Doubt.
* * * * *
Backstage, Alphys watched through a screen, hands trembling.
"He… he doesn't have to do this," she whispered, as if anyone could hear. "It wasn't supposed to go this far…"
She had built him.
Not just as a robot. Not just as a performer. But as a mask.
A symbol of brilliance. Confidence. Glamour. Everything she was too scared to be.
He was supposed to make the Underground believe again. That even in the dark, there could be light. But somewhere along the way… he began to believe it, too.
And now, he was risking everything to become what he thought he needed to be.
A hero.
A finale.
* * * * *
Onstage, the fight was a blur of color and rhythm.
Frisk dodged beams shaped like stars, danced around falling disco lights. Mettaton shouted praises to the crowd, asked the audience to "vote" for their favorite act of heroism.
And all the while, his voice cracked just slightly. His movements grew more frantic.
This isn't about hurting us, Chara realized. He's trying to prove something.
Frisk stopped moving.
Lowered their arms.
And smiled.
Mettaton froze mid-spin.
Frisk stepped forward. "You don't have to be perfect," they said. "They already love you."
A beat of silence.
The lights dimmed.
And Mettaton… laughed.
Not grandly. Not dramatically. But softly. Almost human.
* * * * *
Backstage, Alphys buried her face in her hands. But when she looked up again, something had changed.
She stepped out from the shadows.
Into the light.
* * * * *
The man's voice softened. "Alphys faced them, one by one. Told the truth. About the lab. The experiments. The lies."
His hands folded in his lap again. "It wasn't easy. But for the first time, she stood without a mask. And to her surprise… no one looked away."
The girl's fingers twitched against the side of her knee. She tilted her head slightly, brows creased, and pointed gently toward her chest, then outward as if releasing something.
The man watched her in silence for a moment, then gave a slow, knowing nod.
"Yes," he said quietly. "She wanted to be seen. And when she finally showed herself, broken pieces and all… they still accepted her."
She gave a tiny nod in return, hands resting in her lap again.
"They forgave her?" her gestures asked.
He answered without hesitation. "Some did. Some didn't. But they saw her. And that was enough."
The steady drizzle falling from the sky above Mount Ebott. Rain dripped from the edge of the man's hood, but the shadows still clung tightly to its fabric, revealing nothing of the face beneath—just as always.
The girl's expression softened, her gaze distant, lost in thought. She pressed a hand gently to her chest.
The man noticed. He understood.
"And Frisk? They kept going. Toward the throne. Toward truth."