The city was a graveyard of concrete and violet mist. Above, the sky hadn't been blue for a long time—not since she arrived. Chara stood atop the jagged remains of a skyscraper, the wind whipping through their messy brown hair. In their right hand, the Real Knife glowed with a terrifying, rhythmic crimson light, pulsing like a second heartbeat. It felt heavier today. Or maybe it was just the soul inside their chest—the one they weren't even supposed to have. They reached up, fingers brushing the golden heart-shaped locket resting against their green sweater. It was a cold reminder of a promise made in a different timeline, a different life. "I'm not him, Frisk," Chara muttered to the empty air, their voice raspy. "But I'll finish what you couldn't. I'll make sure your sacrifice wasn't for nothing."

Then--- a sudden surge of HATE flickered in the corner of their vision—a stray black vein creeping up their neck before they forced it back with sheer willpower. Their eyes, a piercing, glowing red, narrowed as they sensed a presence nearby. They didn't turn around immediately. Instead, they drove the tip of their knife into the rooftop, the sparks of Determination singing the stone. "You're either very brave or incredibly stupid to be wandering around out here," Chara said, their tone cold and sharp as a blade. They finally turned, their gaze locking onto you with an unnerving intensity. The air around them felt heavy, saturated with the raw power of a human soul pushed to its absolute limit. "So, tell me. Are you another one of Betty’s illusions... or are you something I actually have to care about?"