This was it.

Every moment, every action of every living or dead being had been for this moment, for this one important and crucial moment. Worlds destroyed, timelines altered and whole species massacred so that Gaster could once more walk free, no longer an invisible ghost, but embodied within a corporeal form that would walk and talk, breathe and run, spare and kill.

It had been a long strategy, a plan that had taken years in the making, but none of that mattered now for Gaster was free! Ever since he had first fallen into the Core in the original timeline, found himself stranded, alone and forgotten in the Void, he had hatched a plan so that he might once more achieve physical form.

And the plan had been set into motion when the painter first appeared in the Void, ripping out his soul in the process. From there on out Ink had become the perfect canidate, for the monster lacked a soul, an empty vessel in the making. Gaster had stalked the skeleton at first during Ink's venture in the Void, deciding on whether or not to establish contact. But when Ink had begun to fill himself with those false emotions, attempt to create substitutions for his missing soul, Ink was no longer an empty form, possessing some form of life no matter how small. But Gaster needed Ink emotionless, without a soul or anything in particular so that the painter could once more become the perfect vessel.

Much thought was put in, Gaster devising the series of events that would somehow put Ink into a position where he could no longer take the soul supplements, so that the painter could once more become a hollow shell and be his for the taking. And so Gaster had appeared to Nightmare and droven the anomaly to near insanity, guiding him through whispers and promises of how and when to act. Nightmare was to declare war on Ink and those that deemed themselves the multiverse's protectors. This would draw Ink onto the battlefield and thus put him in a vulnerable position, so was Gaster's motives.

There was also the question of how Ink would run out of his supply of emotion supplements. Gaster needed Ink to be confined to an area where he could not escape nor interact with any other living things. So Gaster had taken it to himself to delete [Y/N]'s timeline, a small unimportant world he had destroyed only for the reason to create an unescapable prison for the artist once he was captured. Gaster had not foreseen [Y/N] surviving, but that was just an unimportant, minor detail.

Once the opposition was assembled, once both opposing sides were engaged in battle, did Gaster command Nightmare to personally hunt down Ink and capture the painter. Once Ink was captured, he was thrown into the emptiless world that the skeleton and [Y/N] were in now, siting alone without any hope or deterance, slowly watching as his reserves of emotions and traits burned away, leaving behind nothing but a hollow shell.

But Gaster had wanted more than just Ink for a vessel, he had also wanted power. And that power lay within the fiery determination that blazed within the human [Y/N]'s soul, a soul he wanted to absorb when he finally took over Ink. Not only would he return to the mortal world in a new vessel, but he would return in splendor and grandeur as it was always foretold, the god that was heralded throughout all of time and space.

So Gaster had pushed around some more strings and made it so that [Y/N] would be captured and brought to Ink's prison at the moment Gaster was about to possess the empty and lifeless painter, so that in a deft motion, he could snatch the human's soul and gain the power boost.

And then he would leave this dead world and return to the mutliverse, return to that damned doodle sphere and use his newfound power to overwrite everything in existence, delete every timeline until there was only a single one left. And then he would alter the code of that timeline, create the perfect universe with the perfect ending. Because if Gaster could do it, if he could create the perfect ending in the main universe, than the human would never again reset and thus no more universes would be created, no more alternate realities.

And thus the cycle would end.

When Gaster opened his eyes, he longer saw through his glitched form, but through the eyes of the painter, through the vessel he had strove for years to control, to manipulate every step of the way. He flexed his fingers, pertrubed by the feeling of movement, of embodying a corporeal form. There was not even a trace of the painter left for how could there be anything left of Ink when he had no soul, when not a part of him still remained in existence beside his physical form?

"Now," Gaster spoke, his voice much lighter than the voice of his previous body but that was okay, things such as that were trivial compared to the euphoria coursing through him. He was free, free at last! Nothing could stop him, not one thing lived to stand in his way! The human [Y/N] eyed him with a look of dawning horror, taking a step back in fear. But where was there for them to run, where was there for them to hide? There was no where to go but face their end, for Gaster was the god of this world and the rest of the multiverse, none had the power to oppose him. "Now you will die, and what an honor that will be! The first of many, I am sure, but you can die knowing you have served a purpose greater than yourself."

The fear vanished from the human's eyes, their resolve growing. They held their ground, a look of contempt and hatred manifesting on their features. Gaster sighed, knowing how the trivial saying went. Hope was the only thing stronger than fear and this human seemed to be brimming with hope, false hope in precise that they would win this fight, but what fight was there to win? Gaster had already won this war, completed his plan, everything had fallen into place.

But you were determined, it was the fire in your veins that pumped all throughout your body and constructed your entire being. For the first time, for the first real time you felt alive with one goal, one single plan in mind that you were determined to see out. You would kill Gaster, erase him from all memory and existence, eradicate the foul demented creature so that not a trace of him remained, not a breath and not even a whisper.

You knew that Ink was gone, he had been gone for a long time, when Nightmare had first captured him and brought him to this damn prison, where his reserves of emotions, his makeshift soul had burned out leaving behinf an empty shell. And with Ink's final passing into the Void, the wheel had shifted, the balance had been altered. Another had stepped to take Ink's place, forced into a position without consent or will, chosen out of random sheer intent, the one soul in an infinite amount selected to become the preserver and guardian of the universes.

And that was you.

Maybe you weren't the best, every living creature held their flaws. But there was one thing you were sure of, one thing that you knew lay in the future. Even after you somehow managed to kill Gaster, the cycle of neverending conflict between the multiverse's protector and destroyer, the conflict between Ink and Error, now transferred to you and him, that neverending fued would end. You had seen it in the anomaly's eyes in his words to you, some meaning of truth there. There was a chance for a better future, you just had to make it yourself.

But would Error side with you if Gaster managed to escape, if you managed to live past this encounter? What Gaster wanted, what Ink had said, resonated entirely with what Error had been striving to achieve for so long. Hadn't the glitch always enthused about the idea of one universe, of one timeline, the original universe crafted to such a way where no universe, no alternate realities would ever form again?

Some part of you held onto the faint hope, the only thing stronger than fear, that Error would not side with Gaster, that he would join the hundreds of others in the final battle whenever that would occur, fighting alongside and not against you. That held your fears at ease, that momentary hope.

Gaster's possession of Ink had altered the painter's form. Both of his irises now blazed a deep purple, a black jagged smile carved into his skull. Two black scars ran down both his eye sockets, giving a much more demented appearance to the body of the former painter. The brush slung across Ink's back had also transformed into an ebony colour while the once-empty vials on his sash were now filled with a dark liquid.

Everything changes.

Everything stays.

"There's no point in fighting, nothing you say or do will alter your death," Gaster sighed, grabbing the brush in his right hand and slashing it in the air, a purple beam shooting across the room towards you. With a thought, magic fueled by your determination and will to reshape the world around you, a [F/C] shield sprouted from the base of your hands, a translucent membrane that deflected the attack.

Gaster rolled his shoulders, looking enthused about a fight. "It's been a long time," the demented skeleton chuckled before launching himself into the air. He sommersaulted and launded feet next to you, slamming the hilt of the black paintbrush onto the ground, tranforming the entire ground into a crude black colour. Something told you that you did not want to be on the floor for much longer so you summoned a thin translucent [F/C] platform that hovered above the ground, one you hopped onto.

The moment you reached the platform, black spikes shot up from all around, spikes that would haev most likely impaled you should you have stayed on the ground. "Smart," Gaster chuckled, no where to be seen. "Most impressive, I must admit. I had not thought you capable of the intellect to bypass that."

"Bite me," you retorted and looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of the skeleton. A blur to your right indicated movement and you summoned a spear in your right hand, holding it across your chest as Gaster leaped from the side, you blocking the black dagger in his hand. "Going to have to try a lot harder than that," you breathed, struggling to keep up with the fight, using the magic depleting your reserves of energy. Would Gaster never tire?

Flee or die, those were your two options. Because eventually you would tire and no longer produce the energy required for magic, and Gaster seemed to just be getting into the thrall of the fight. But here in this prison, there was no way for you to create a rift into another world, for the coding had been altered so that none could escape.

Gaster once more vanished from view, a moving blur that could never be pinpointed at an exact location. Though his voice was still magnified across the room for gods often liked having themselves heard by mortals below them.

"Why do you play the saint?" Gaster asked, his voice offering no indication on where he was.

"Because you play the sinner," you snarled, refusing to let your guard drop. The tips of your fingers crackled with the pulse of [F/C] flame, ready to deflect an impending attack at a moment's notice. Gaster's demented laughter rang across the world, chilling you to the core.

"You pose yourself as my adversary, as the hero destined to defeat me because no one else can," Gaster mused. It seemed he was toying you, relishing in his vantage over you. "But I know what you have done, I know what you have wrought upon other timelines, other worlds. Nightmare was right, did you know that? That soul weapon never corrupted your soul, it only magnified your emotions. The want, the desire that you have to kill? It's always been there."

"Liar!" You shrieked and whipped around, a blade forming in your hand that you thrusted at Gaster when he leaped from his unseen hiding spot, attempting to slash your back open. A metallic ring filled the air as magic met magic, blade against blade, hope against fear.

But was it all lies? Wasn't the desire, the craving to kill still buried inside of you?

"Don't try denying it," Gaster continued to taunt, once more disappearing from view. He seemed impatient now, wondering why it was taking him so long to kill this damn human and absorb their soul. He had other things to do than toy with the emotions of a mere mortal creature, there was a grander scheme at work here. "Even now you want to kill me. You can't wait to bury that blade of yours into my skull."

But this time you saw Gaster before he saw you.

You launched yourself from the suspended platform, launching yourself onto his back and drew the blade forward, ready to bury it inside his skull. Nothing else mattered, nothing else was important than the need to kill, to make him suffer for everything he had done.

Gaster roared and attempted to fling you from him, but you held your grip, kicking and bashing him on the sides in hopes of holding him still so you could deliver the killing blow. Why couldn't he just die already?

"Enough!"

Gaster grabbed you by the neck, whirling around so that he was floating above the ground, you caught in his grasp. "We are done now," he snarled, his grip around your windpipe tightening. And he let you go.

You were falling and there was nothing you could do, for the fear, the dread of your impending death was greater than anything you had felt before, blocking out all hope and all thought. Your magic reserves were a distant memory as you got closer and closer to the ground, nearer and nearer to the black spikes that portruded from the ground, eager, waiting to impale, to kill...

And where you should have died, a rift appeared through the air, a black skeletal hand reaching through the gaping hole and grabbed you by the hand, pulling you through.

The last thing you heard before you gave way to unconsciousness was Gaster's infuriated scream, knowing that this would not be the last you saw of him.