Decimation
Some members of one of the GIW’s top-secret research facilities have made an earth-shattering discovery.
They’ve found a way to make half-ghosts.
The failure rate is high. For every subject they successfully convert, many more are left burnt-out corpses—or worse, as rabid undead that must be put down with force.
It didn’t matter. The test subjects were cheap, worthless. Their countless deaths were an acceptable sacrifice in the name of progress.
Their operative’ deaths when they begin the full plan… those will matter more. Their warped agents may be more dangerous than normal humans in combat, but legions of foot soldiers still have their place. It would be foolish to leave themself solely in the hands of ectoplasmic entities, even if they’re allies and still partially human. Recruiting and training enough replacements to recover the losses would take time.
But it will all be worth it.
Finally, they will have control of a strong enough army to bring their goals to fruition. Those inhuman wraiths will be eradicated, ensuring the safety of the real, living humans and opening up a whole new dimension of untapped resources.
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No way did I see someone say that Error is more “morally in the right” than Ink 😭
He does NOT keep the balance!! He wants to destroy everything and only keep things he loves!! (Outertale, Undernovela, classic Undertale) He’s a HUGE hypocrite and refuses to think further about his plans cause he crashes whenever he realizes it doesn’t make any sense!!!
He is a vilain with a silly side. That still doesn’t excuse his actions! HE IS AN IRREDEEMABLE VILAIN AND I LOVE HIMMMMMMMM
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Round 7
Till doesn’t fight back as he’s fitted into his costume; a tailored, white suit.
Far more expensive than anything he’s ever worn or owned. Restrictive in a way he knows Luka’s isn’t.
He doesn’t argue when they slick his hair back. Or when they take out his piercings.
He doesn’t even look in the mirror once he’s ready.
Someone nearby whispers that he “looks like a prince.”
The collar of the jacket is too tight around his neck.
Don’t think about it.
The stage is dark when Till is shoved out to take his position.
A sea of stars unfolds above him, stretching out across the deep black yawn of space. Till allows himself a moment to look.
His heart stutters as something bright and fast streaks across the sky.
A meteor.
A shooting star.
He remembers when the sky was a brilliant orange and dozens of stars fell as easy as the rain.
Don’t think about it.
The overhead lights come on, nearly blinding him, and the crowd roars below. Luka must be making his entrance.
Till doesn’t look at the audience. He doesn’t look at Luka either.
His gaze drops to the stage beneath him, trying in vain to tune out all of the noise.
He blinks.
Once. Twice.
Blood pools at his feet. Soaks the soles of his boots.
Don’t think about him.
Till grips the microphone and squeezes his eyes shut.
The music starts.
Luka sings the opening lyrics… but it doesn’t sound quite like him.
This voice…
It’s higher. Sweeter. Familiar.
His eyes snap up, locking on to the figure across the stage from him. Glowing like an angel under the spotlight.
Mizi.
Still in her white dress with her long pink hair pulled back.
Just as she left them. Left him.
Till’s heart aches.
She turns to him, letting her golden gaze settle over his.
What he wouldn’t have done for her to look at him like that when they were kids.
Slowly, as she draws out the last note of the line, her lips lift into a gentle smile.
Something cracks.
Wait—
That smile doesn’t look right. It doesn’t feel right.
It feels like—
It feels like Luka…
Flashes of Round 5 hit Till hard and fast.
Mizi in a daze. Luka dancing circles around her. Getting too close. Smiling that same smile.
This is exactly what Luka did to Mizi. This is why she snapped.
Till doesn’t question who Luka pretended to be to get a rise out of her.
He knew it wasn’t him.
Luka comes closer, still wearing Mizi’s face.
He can’t move. Can’t run. Can’t think.
A strong hand cups his right cheek.
Till lunges.
He can barely hear the music over the thundering in his ears and the sound of his fists meeting Luka’s face over and over again.
That bastard is grinning up at him like he already won.
Till just hits harder.
Blood pours out of Luka’s nose and splatters on his suit.
For a moment, it’s Mizi looking up at him with a bloodied face.
Till doesn’t stop.
He won’t stop until they put him down.
Just like Sua. Just like Mizi. Just like—
Ivan.
Dark eyes bore into him as they slowly drain of life.
White suit. Slicked back hair. He looks like a prince.
They dressed me just like you.
His lips are still red.
Till stares back into the only gaze that ever wanted to hold him.
As if it could make up for all of the times he looked away.
The fire raging inside him freezes over. For a moment, everything is quiet.
At the end of this story…
There is only a cold spot stained with blood…
No gods. No worshippers.
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