Error was usually fond of quiet, fond of frequenting universes where there was nothing but quiet and the occasional passing of the breeze, but the silence that engulfed this world was deafening, a silence that set him on edge. The Underfell universe had never known quiet or suffering, not when it had its human to reset the world, perhaps conducting genocide runs, but always bringing the monsters back with the mere push of a button. But that was something of the past, the swollen corpse of the human Frisk was evidence enough, propped up against a lone tree. The nearby pile of ashes signified the skeleton brothers were also a distant memory of this world.

"Wonderful," Error breathed and continued onwards, approaching the town of Snowdin. He walked by it solemnly, carefully skirting the piles of dust and ash for reasons unknown. It was not like he respected the dead, he had created enough corpses in his lifetime to lose the ability to respect the deceased for dead monsters were nothing more than dust and human corpses nothing more than rotting piles of carbon.

But the red scarf that flapped in the breeze, trapped underneath a fallen mailbox, that stirred something inside of Error, memories of his forgotten world, memories that had begun to cease from his mind as well. He couldn't remember the name of his world or what he had done in his universe, the only memory serving of his timeline being that of the red glasses on his face. His failing memories weren't a bother, Error didn't remember much of anything these days.

Error knew that he had a Papyrus once, an Undyne, Toriel, Asgore, the list was endless. He knew he came from a world and from that world he must have had friends. But he didn't remember having friends or family or even caring for someone at all, so that was the reasoning behind his impassive walk through Snowdin, not giving a damn for the deceased simply because he never knew them. But the red scarf, that was familiar.

It was certain that [Y/N] had been through here, the slaughter and carnage was evidence enough. But how they had prevented the human Frisk from resetting the Underfell timeline remained a mystery. Error watched as a few of the houses within the town began to glitch, already succumbing to the code of their collapsing timeline. Ripping away Frisk's ability to reset was the first domino in a chain set of reactions that would ultimately bring this world to its knees. It was funny how much Ink had fought to protect these pieces of unimportant code when they could be destroyed so easily.

The dust was a path and that was the path Error followed as he exited Snowdin and into the dusted world of Waterfall. It resembled much of Snowdin, the dust of monsters resembling the snow in every detail. In fact it almost seemed to be snowing dust from the carnage that had occured here. Error didn't understand the need for such violence. If one wanted to destroy a universe, it was better to delete the entire code. There was less of a mess and it saved time.

Maybe Geno had been right and it was pointless in trying to track down the human, not if they had the ability to jump from one timeline to the next. Error remembered when he had first gotten that ability, had finally managed to focus his powers on one thought, the simple thought of escaping the white hell he had been thrown into, being able to jump into a random universe. That was one of his earliest memories, one that was fragmented. He was pretty sure he had killed everyone in that universe though.

And what if [Y/N] wasn't compliant, that was another issue in of itself. They needed the human on their side in order to take down Nightmare and his army. If it revealed itself that [Y/N] was still caught up in their murderous spree, well, that was another problem right then and there. Error supposed he would have to kill the human, put them out of their misery and then what? Nightmare would win and hunt Error down, force him to bend the knee or put a bone in his skull for good measure. Either way, there was no happy ending if Nightmare won.

See, this was the problem. Error had it all figured out while everyone else was running about trying to fix up their nonsense messes and expecting him to help along. They only needed one universe, the main universe and nothing else. Every other universe was just background noise in the Void and it was particularly annoying. If there was only one universe, than there would be no need to have to worry about rogue universes trying to slaughter one another, everything would be quiet, efficient. Glitches were a disease, and even if Error was an anomaly himself, at least he was doing everyone a favour by taking out the trash.

"You know you want to."

There we are, Error thought to himself. He looked upwards to see [Y/N] crouched on top of the clfff edge that hovered before him, poised more so like a wild animal, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. But why had [Y/N] chosen to remain here, trapped within their own world of dust and ruin? He had thought that the nature of the soul weapon drove the human to kill and never stop, a machine that would never turn off until every last living thing in the infinite number of universes lay dead in a pile of their own dust.

"You want to see this world eradicated," [Y/N] mused, jumping down from the ledge, falling about five feet until they landed on the ground beside him. Their fingers danced around the hilt of the knife clutched within their hand, a menacing ebony black blade laced with thousands of miniature specks that seemed to reflect the stars in all of their grandeur. "There's no need for our truce anymore, after all, truces are nothing more than agreements that were made to be broken, isn't that what you said? Besides, I'm not fit to be Ink's heir, most likely yours if this whole balance bullshit that everyone keeps talking about is true. By the end of this I'll probably take over for you while some poor fool is chosen to take Ink's place and thus the wheel will turn."

"It seems you've already done the work for me," Error chuckled, his eyes staring at the weapon, looking for any indication that it might swing to attack him. But a part of him itched to follow through, to wrap his strings around the damn fabric of this universe and watch it all shatter and vanish.

"I don't have the power to eradicate the codes of timelines," [Y/N] snapped. "Only you do, which makes you an asset and also an annoyance. You strive to simply delete timelines and insist that it's a less messier, more efficient way of dealing with things. But why do that when there's so much fun to have? You could kill, watch every living thing bleed and suffer and then take it all away. At least have fun doing your job."

"A thankless job, that's for sure," Error muttered. "And hey, what can I say? I like having finesse to what I do, leave less messes to mop up later. The more carnage and destruction you create, the more hate that manifests within the timeline so when you finally do delete it, there's more hate that's left over. So even when everything's gone, you still have a big ugly pile of hate that's roaming around the Void, which can turn around and bite back later. I prefer to delete the universes earlier on so there's less of it walking around."

"That's the difference between us," [Y/N] said, their grip around the blade tightening. "You've grown old in your job, wanting to get things done and straight to the point. But what's the point of having a job if you can't enjoy it? Maybe it's time for you to go into retirement."

"Thanks, but I like doing what I do," Error shrugged and sidestepped as [Y/N] launched themselves from where they were sitting, swiping the knife across the air where he had been sitting only miliseconds ago. "And I may have been doing my job for a while, but I sure as hell know how to fight."

He brought his hand downwards, blue strings materialising from the tips of his fingers. "You've picked the wrong fight to lose," he sighed and watched as the cords took on a life of their own, snaking across the dust-ridden ground to [Y/N]'s feet.

"Is that your only attack?" The human shook their head, laughing as they launched themselves from the wall, spiraling through midair and landing metres away from the blue strings. With a slash of their knife, a [F/C] jagged cut materialised in the air and flew towards Error with a life of its own, colliding with the rocky wall behind him. The underground shook, dust and rock falling from above.

"I've got a few other things up my sleeve," Error yawned and jumped onto a Gaster Blaster, a glitched thing that was a shell of the weapon it had once been. He wondered if he had ever set it upon a human in his old forgotten timeline, used it to incinerate the damn creature just as so many other comedians in various timelines did during their genocide runs. A black beam shot from the mouth of the blaster and towards the human, missing only by inches as [Y/N] laughed and dodged the attack, dragging their ebony knife against the rock walls as they danced across the ground, avoiding blue strings and black lasers.

"You've grown weak!" [Y/N] shouted from below, Error circling ahead on top of his blaster. "When the wheel turns and I take your place, I won't make the same mistake."

"Power is arrogance," Error chuckled as the blue strings wrapped around [Y/N]'s ankles and around their [S/D] coloured soul that beat against their chest. "That is the difference between the two of us. When your power grows, you must learn to control it, not use it. If there is no discipline there is nothing but foolishness."

The blaster floated towards where the human was suspended in the air, gaping jaws ready to fire off another laser should the instance require. "You are not my successor," Error growled and pried the knife from [Y/N]'s grip. The human shrieked and gave way to a fit of convulsions, no longer in contact with the bit of soul buried within the confines of the weapon.

"Kill me!" [Y/N] spat, eyes laced with their own fury and insanity. Error was vaguely reminded of the first days he spent alone in the Void, alone, screaming and begging for some listener to kill him. But then the screams had started to scream back until all they ever did was scream and scream and scream and...

What was he talking about?

"Too much work," Error muttered and looked at the knife. If he were to destroy it, [Y/N] would consequently die, no question about it. And following their death would mean Nightmare's abbsolute victory, something that neither Error nor anyone else could afford. But the carnage of Underfell was already proof enough of the calamity that would follow should the soul weapon continue to exist, and the fact that [Y/N] would be driven to near insanity with an incomplete soul and thus be incapable of fighting.

The third option was inconceivable and yet perfectly rational at the same time, the true and only option at hand. While [Y/N] could not function completely with a missing part of their soul, it was possible for the soul to be patched.

Error closed his eyes, wondering if this was the best option. There were unthinkable consequences should this follow through and perhaps [Y/N] was right, maybe some poor bastard would be deemed his successor by the invisible balance that dominated them after all. But this was necessary, vital if anything. Whatever brought him closer to watching last night's episode of Undernovela in peace...

"Human souls are complex," Error explained, refusing to meet [Y/N]'s empty eyes. The human seemed to be in a vegetative state, neither fully present nor comatose. After having been exposed to the other half of their soul for so long, it seemed that their body could no longer sustain itself with only a partial soul. "But that doesn't mean they can't be altered, if even the slightest."

He brought his own soul into display. This was essential for the war at hand, essential for his own preservation so that Nightmare would finally be eradicated and Error could once more resume his plans of deleting the universe. Or perhaps he would uphold the truce between him and [Y/N], content that no universes would ever again be created. This was why he was doing this, nothing more. There was no other reason for him doing this, at least what Error attempted to reason. This was necessary.

There was no other option.

Error brushed the tip of his finger along the left half of his soul, a black and glitched thing that embodied everything foul in the world. Looking away, he snapped off the piece, biting back the agony and pain that ravaged his form as every fibre of his being threatened to wither into dust right then and there.

Quickly, it was essential to act quickly. He placed the broken half of his soul into the missing portion of [Y/N]'s own soul, watching in satisfaction as the two pieces reacted, medling so that they formed one complete soul. It was a queer sight, one half being the ebony black of Error's soul and the other half being [Y/N]'s own original soul.

But now that [Y/N] owned a complete soul, Error could now repair himself. The soul weapon could now be destroyed in order to obtain the soul trapped inside. It would no longer harm [Y/N] when broken because they possessed a complete soul, meaning they were no long tethered to this half. He grabbed the hilt and blade and snapped the damn thing in two, grabbing the [S/D] portion that flew into the air, quickly shoving it into his missing half.

The portion of [Y/N]'s soul fused to his own, fading to a dark black and becoming indistinguishable with the other half of Error's soul. It looked exactly as it had been before, glitched and foul. There was no idea knowing the long term consequences, but the current way of things required living only in the present where dire actions were required in order to ensure that they could live for at least a second more. Everything was done in small intervals in this war, not caring for the future that lay after this battle.

"The things I do for glitches," Error growled and lifted his hand, carrying [Y/N]'s comatose form in the air behind him. He swiped his hand, opening a rift in all of time and space, bringing the two of them once more back into the Void.

And then that rift closed, leaving behind the grave of Underfell, with its unstable code that collapsed in on itself, fading entirely from existence, living only in the minds of the survivors that once passed through it.

And embodied in the hate that remained.