UT: Unbound Souls

Vance swallowed, his hands curling into fists as the weight of the words settled into his bones.

He didn't know what was happening.

His breath came shallow as he scanned the room again, but now—

He wasn't alone.

From his vision, the two specters hadn't disappeared. They were here, standing near the foot of his bed, their forms flickering in and out like a glitch in reality. The red one remained steady, its ember-like glow dim yet unwavering, while the blue one barely held together, its presence weak and unstable.

Vance's first thought was ghosts. Like Mettaton, like Napstablook—monsters born via magical phenomena and not the spirits or souls of humans. But something about these two felt… different.

More than that, they looked different.

They weren't misty or formless like the ghost monsters he'd seen before. No, they were human-shaped. Too human.

And in the center of their chests—

A hole. A perfectly carved space in the shape of a heart, hollow and empty.

Where their souls should have been.

But it wasn't the upside-down shape of a monster's soul.

It was the shape of a human soul.

Vance felt something cold crawl up his spine.

"…Who are you?" His voice was hoarse, his fingers clutching at the blankets. His golden soul pulsed faintly beneath his skin, reacting to their presence. The red specter tilted its head, as if considering him.

"You can see us," it repeated, but this time, there was something else in its voice. A slow realization. As if this wasn't supposed to happen.

The blue specter trembled, its form flickering violently. It stepped back—or at least, Vance thought it did, but its movements barely left an imprint in reality.

Then, suddenly, the red specter let out a short, sharp laugh. "Hah! Finally! I thought this would take longer."

The blue specter seemed to shudder at those words, then spoke—except, to Vance, it wasn't words at all. A distorted, glitchy sound crackled through the air, incomprehensible and jarring.

Vance flinched. "What—? What was that?"

The red specter—Chara, he somehow knew—blinked before realization dawned. "Huh. Didn't expect this to happen yet."

Vance's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Chara hummed, half in thought, half in amusement. "I knew I'd be able to talk to you eventually. Our connection's been growing stronger. But this? This is ahead of schedule."

The blue specter—Nina—flickered erratically, as if distressed. More garbled noise filled the air, but it was useless. Vance couldn't understand a single thing.

Chara sighed, shaking her head. "You can hear me, but not her. Makes sense. I've been tied to you longer. Two days, I think? Nina only latched on last night."

Vance's breath hitched. Latched on?

"…What do you mean, 'tied to me'?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Chara smirked, then placed a hand on her chest. "I'll get to that. But first—might as well introduce myself."

She flickered slightly before regaining her form. "I'm Chara. Chara Dreemurr. I don't remember everything—my memories are… incomplete. But I know I used to live here. I know I like something called chocolate. And—"

Her gaze sharpened. "I know I died."

Vance felt a chill settle over him.

Chara pointed at the blue specter. "And that's Nina. She's the same. She doesn't remember much, but she's another human who died down here. And from what we heard earlier, she might be the one Toriel was talking about—the girl who was killed in the Ruins by monsters. It matches with what little she remembers."

Nina twitched, glitching again as she tried to speak, but only distorted static came out.

Chara winced. "Yeah. That's gonna be a problem."

Vance swallowed hard. "So… why can I see you now?"

Chara tilted her head before gesturing toward his clothes. "That's part of it."

Vance blinked and looked down, realizing she was pointing at the sweater he'd changed into temporarily while Toriel was fixing up his tattered jacket.

"That's my old sweater, I think. I can't remember exactly, but it's familiar," Chara pointed out. "It's acting as a medium. Just like Nina's connection got stronger because you took two things that were hers. It's like… a tether. A bridge."

Vance's head spun. His soul had grown stronger after his battle with Toriel, his understanding of magic expanding—but now, this? He could see them. Hear Chara, at least.

Chara crossed her arms. "And it's not just the items. Your soul's growing stronger, Vance. You're aligning more with your soul trait."

"Soul trait?" Vance echoed, heart pounding.

Chara hesitated, frowning slightly. "Yeah. Alignment. When someone acts more in tune with their soul's nature, they get stronger. Without LV. Without EXP."

Vance stiffened. LV. EXP. He knew those terms. LOVE. Execution Points. In Undertale, they were measures of violence—how much someone had killed, how much pain they had inflicted. It was the game's way of tracking morality, though it had always been disguised as a standard leveling system.

Chara frowned, rubbing her temple. "I… don't remember where I learned that. But it makes sense, right? A kind person doing kind things gets stronger. A determined person pushing forward no matter what gets stronger. And you—"

She pointed at him.

"Compassion and apathy."

Vance swallowed, feeling his golden soul pulse, shifting between gold and silver beneath his ribs. His mind raced with everything he had done since waking up in the Underground. The mechanics in Undertale had been clear-cut, but here? Here it was real. The idea that he could gain strength without LV and EXP resonated with the game mechanics, but it also meant something more profound in this world.

"If you keep aligning with it," Chara continued, her voice flickering with static now, breaking apart in places, "you might… be able to… see and hear… us more clearly."

Vance processed her words, his mind racing back to when he first woke up in the Underground. He had done some weird things, now that he thought about it—trying to SAVE, only to realize he couldn't, like in the game. Chatting up the training dummy despite its complete lack of response even though he knew it was possessed it would definitely look weird to an outsider's perspective. Spending way too much G at the Spider Bake Sale just because he thought he was so hungry that he forgot his own manners. Even went out of his way to help a sentient rock monster find friends just so it would move and let him pass.

Vance stood still, his thoughts spiraling in confusion. Had Chara been there the entire time? Watching, following him? What did it mean that she was tied to him in this strange way? His heart raced as he tried to make sense of it all, but his head felt heavy, and his body seemed to resist his attempts to focus.

He glanced at the blue specter, Nina. She hovered uncertainly, her glitchy form pulsing in and out of existence. Her shape wavered like the shimmer of the heat off the pavement, her outline not quite stable enough to grasp fully. She was there, but not really, flickering in and out of focus as if she didn't entirely belong to the world around them.

Chara, noticing where his gaze lingered, let out a heavy sigh, one tinged with frustration. "Nina's… not like me," she explained, her voice flat but carrying an edge. "She doesn't remember anything from before you got here. She woke up when you slept in this room after you got her Toy Knife and Faded Ribbon."

Vance's mind reeled. Nina, the blue specter—she didn't even know who she was before meeting him? How was that possible? The thought felt wrong, like a piece of a puzzle he couldn't find. But before he could process it further, Chara's form flickered, distorting in a wave of static.

Chara's voice cracked, becoming distorted as her form shifted violently before him. She froze in place, a pulse of static filling the space between them, her words breaking apart like a shattered radio signal.

"Ch-Chara?" Vance's voice trembled as he reached toward her, confused and unsettled by the sudden change.

"Vance," she rasped, her voice warping. "I—"

The glitching intensified. The static grew louder, a chaotic blend of digital noise and fragments of broken speech. Vance could barely comprehend the words. A strange sensation, like something being yanked from him, swept over his body. His limbs grew heavy, and his soul—it felt as though it was being drained, its warmth fading like a candle burning down.

He staggered back, clutching his chest as the sudden fatigue hit him. His vision blurred, his head spinning as if his body was being consumed by an invisible weight. "What's happening?" he whispered through gritted teeth. His legs buckled slightly, but he caught himself before he collapsed. His thoughts felt distant, disjointed.

Chara's form flickered again, now more fragmented than before. "Your soul," she said, her words cutting through the static. "It's not strong enough yet."

Vance's breathing came in sharp gasps. "Not strong enough for what?"

She glitched again, a dark pulse passing through her form as if her very existence was being destabilized by something. She clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing in frustration, but the static made it impossible to read her expression fully. "For this," she said, her voice now distant and strained. "For our appearances to last. Your soul's strength isn't enough yet to manifest both of our specter forms for long periods. The connection we share is draining it."

Vance's heart sank, his soul feeling the weight of those words. Manifestations? He had thought it was just a strange dream—a hallucination even—but now… now he could feel the drain in his very being. He could sense his soul weakening, flickering like a dying ember in the wind.

"We'll have to wait," Chara continued, her voice fainter with each passing second, barely audible above the growing static. "Another opportunity to talk again, after you've rested. It's already late, anyways. Your body needs it."

Vance could barely keep his eyes open, the exhaustion taking over his senses. Wait? He wanted to say something, to ask more questions, but his words were swallowed by the overwhelming tide of weariness that flooded him. His mind felt as though it was sinking, thoughts muddling together, only adding to the fog that clouded his consciousness.

"Even if you can't see us," Chara's voice persisted, now reduced to a murmur, "we're still nearby. We're tied to you, after all. For some reason... But that's all for now." The glitching intensified until her form was nothing but a fractured blur.

The specter's figure, as well as Nina's, began to fade completely from view, swallowed by the static as their presence diminished. Before Vance could react, even the faintest trace of their forms was gone. Silence filled the room.

Vance swayed, his legs struggling to hold him upright as the last traces of Chara and Nina disappeared. The weight of his exhaustion overwhelmed him completely. His mind, still swirling with unanswered questions, struggled to hold onto the pieces of clarity he had—only for them to slip away as he was consumed by sleep. The strange conversation, the connection with the specters, and the feeling of being drained… they all faded into the fog of his drowsiness.

I'll think about this tomorrow, Vance thought weakly, his body collapsing into a sitting position before he slumped back onto the bed. His eyes closed, the darkness consuming him as his body gave in to the pull of unconsciousness.

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Sleep came, but it was not peaceful.

Vance drifted in and out of awareness, caught in a space that was neither waking nor dreaming. He felt weightless, floating in a void where time had no meaning. The silence was suffocating, yet at the same time, it pulsed with an unseen energy, an awareness that prickled at the edges of his mind.

Then—

A voice.

Not Chara's. Not Nina's.

Faint, almost like an echo from a distant memory.

"You shouldn't be here."

The words sent a chill through his very soul, reverberating in his bones like a warning. The voice was neither harsh nor gentle. It simply was. A presence that had always existed, just beyond reach, just beyond understanding.

Vance tried to move, to speak, but found himself trapped in stillness. He wasn't bound. There were no chains, no walls. Just an overwhelming pressure, like the world itself, was holding him in place.

Another voice, different yet familiar, spoke next.

"But he's here now."

This one was softer, almost wistful, carrying the weight of something old. Something forgotten.

Vance strained against the void, against the pressure pinning him down, desperate to see who was speaking. But there was nothing. Just shifting shadows, flickering like candlelight in the distance.

Then, suddenly—

A glimpse.

Two figures, obscured and hazy, stood in the distance. One burned like dying embers, warm yet fading. The other was pale and flickering, like a broken fragment of something greater—something erased.

The ember-like figure pulsed with an old, steady warmth, standing firm despite its dimming glow. The flickering one, however, seemed... unstable, shifting like a distortion in time itself, as though reality could not fully contain it.

They stood side by side.

Watching him.

Waiting.

A jagged whisper crawled through the void, neither voice but something deeper, like the remnants of a forgotten equation unraveling. It carried no words, only a sensation—of something waiting, watching, calculating in the unseen corners of existence.

Vance tried to reach for them, but his limbs were unresponsive, his voice stolen by the void. Frustration built in his chest, but before he could attempt anything else—

The dream shattered.

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Vance awoke to the soft glow of morning light filtering through his window. He blinked, momentarily disoriented, his mind still clouded by the remnants of his strange vision. He turned his head toward the small wooden clock on the nightstand. 10 AM.

He sat up slowly, expecting the fatigue from the previous day to cling to his bones, but to his surprise, he felt... better. Not just rested, but truly revitalized, as if something inside him had been reignited. His body no longer ached, and his mind felt clearer than it had in days.

Yet, the lingering presence of those two figures sat heavy on his consciousness. They were watching him. He knew it now. The realization sent a shiver down his spine, making him hyper-aware of his every movement. Were they observing him at this very moment? Did they know his thoughts? Could he communicate with them?

Pushing those thoughts aside for now, Vance swung his legs over the bed and stood up, stretching his arms above his head. A low rumble from his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten since the previous evening.

With that in mind, he decided to find Toriel.

Padding down the hallway, he followed the familiar scent of butterscotch and cinnamon. As he stepped into the kitchen, he saw Toriel standing by the stove, carefully flipping golden-brown pancakes on a skillet. She hummed a soft tune, her ears twitching slightly at the sound of his approach.

"Ah, good morning, my child," she greeted warmly, glancing over her shoulder with a gentle smile. "You slept in quite late today. I was beginning to worry."

Vance rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah... I guess I was really tired. But I feel a lot better now."

Toriel chuckled, setting a plate of freshly made pancakes on the table. "I am glad to hear that. Come, sit. Breakfast is ready."

He slid into his seat, watching as Toriel moved gracefully around the kitchen, pouring a cup of tea for herself and setting a glass of milk in front of him. The moment felt warm—comfortable, as though the events of the previous night were nothing more than a distant dream.

Still, his mind couldn't let go of the knowledge that he was not alone. That even now, unseen eyes might be observing this very moment. It made him more aware of every small action, every word spoken. Would the two spirits approve? Would they judge?

A thought formed in his mind, hesitant yet persistent. Could he reach out to them? If they were truly tied to him, was it possible to communicate?

As he idly cut into his pancakes, he focused inward, searching for any trace of their presence. He didn't know what he was doing, not really, but he had to try. If they were part of his existence now, he couldn't ignore them forever.

But nothing answered. No flicker of warmth, no distorted whisper.

Just silence.

Vance sighed, shaking his head slightly before turning his attention back to his meal. For now, he'd let it be. Today was a new day, and at this moment, he just wanted to enjoy a quiet breakfast with Toriel.

And so, as the morning passed, he allowed himself to savor the peaceful slice of life before him, even as the weight of unseen eyes remained ever in the back of his mind.