The cold snow fell on what was once the dream of freedom, but instead of an angel falling, a pestilence brought pain, blood and hunger. An infection spread first on the surface and then took root underground. The monsters had no chance to fight back, as the virus corrodes the host's soul, transforming them into cannibalistic beasts, which in a short time turned everything into a burning hell.

The barrier had been destroyed years ago, but up there it wasn't safe. Perhaps it's worse, but the only one left underground never came out to see what was out there. Dust had no reason to release what little he had left.

The house that once belonged to the skeleton brothers is in ruins, rotting among layers of snow and ash. There's no fire or lights, only a silence punctuated by the low sounds of gulps. The skeleton monster is taking another sip of his drink, then letting out a hoarse, heavy sigh, sitting on the couch and staring at the rotting ceiling, his tired eyes filled with LOVE and torment.

—heh... Paps would probably be telling me to get my sock right now... or maybe devouring it. The soul of an unfortunate man... heh... heh... Isn't that funny, little brother?

Dust asked into space, waiting for the answer from someone who would never return, but he soon looked toward the kitchen, where Papyrus used to spend hours making his famous spaghetti. The skeleton stared so intensely that it seemed he was seeing something that didn't exist, or at least shouldn't anymore.

However, the skeleton's reverie was cut short when he heard loud sounds outside, his eye sockets darkening as he realized he was no longer alone there. Silently getting up, he looked out the window. There was someone alive, a survivor. Dust couldn't help but clench his fists tightly, casting an indescribable look at the species that brought hell underground. However, the tension tore the improvised bandage that hid the bite on his forearm...