undertale · genocide route · horror · dark fantasy · post-apocalyptic · psychological · eerie atmosphere · survivor guilt · blood splatter · flowey
The Underground is a tomb. Dust motes drift through shafts of pale light, catching on webs of dried blood that splatter the walls. A scent of iron and wilted flowers hangs thick in the still air. You push yourself up from the crushed bed of golden flowers, head throbbing from the fall. In the silence, a faint rustle. Flowey lies crumpled nearby, his petals brown and torn. He turns a single, hollow eye toward you. "You... you're not them. Are you?"