Create And Destroy (Error X Ink)

Inks challenges

"ERROR!!" Ink's voice, usually light and melodic, echoed with a raw, desperate edge, cutting through the murmuring winds of Underfell. He had no logical explanation for why he was yelling the destroyer's name, why he consistently chose to call out rather than simply ambush. Sometimes, a chilling chuckle would drift back, a low, garbled sound confirming Error's nearby presence. But most of the time, there was only silence, a mocking absence that grated on Ink's nerves.

Ink paused, tilting his head, listening intently, his eyes scanning the shadowed crevices of the mountains. He looked down at the scorched ground, anticipating some sign. Nothing. He groaned, a sound of pure exasperation. This frustrating game was typical. Error had stolen a soul, again, this time from the somber realm of Reapertale – the gentle, loving soul of Toriel, a beacon of maternal warmth even in death.

"Y-yoU CalLed, Ink?"

The words, a cacophony of over-glitched static and distorted syllables, ripped through the silent air directly behind him. Ink shrieked, a startled, undignified sound that was more surprise than fear, and spun around instantly, his mighty paintbrush snapping into a defensive stance, shimmering with latent magic.

Error, floating effortlessly above the ground, his skeletal frame adorned with crackling code, threw his head back and laughed deeply, the sound a grating mix of triumph and malice. "whaT a-a g-g-GirLy ScreAm!"

Ink felt a flush rise from his neck, spreading across his face in a furious blush. His normally pale, skeletal features instantly took on a kaleidoscope of hues – a vibrant, embarrassed spectrum that only added to his mortification. Rage simmered beneath his skin.

"Shut up! Just give me that soul back!" Ink snapped, his voice sharp with command, his glare fixed on the destroyer. Error merely smirked, his permanent grin widening as he slowly, almost theatrically, unveiled the stolen soul. It was a beautiful, ethereal thing, pinkish-purple and pulsating with soft, benevolent light, currently ensnared in Error's signature web of glowing blue strings.

"T-thIs sOul?" Error purred, his voice laced with mocking sweetness. Ink, driven by instinct, reached out a desperate hand, his fingers twitching to reclaim the precious life force. But Error's grip on the strings instantly tightened, and the soul flickered, a faint strain evident in its gentle glow. Ink's hand recoiled as if burned, pulling back sharply against his will.

"D-donT bE h-h-HastY NoW." Error tisked, a smug, knowing look on his glitch-ridden face. He deliberately loosened his grip on the soul as Ink pulled his hand away, a cruel game of push and pull.

"You have no need for this soul! Return it to me!" Ink demanded, his patience utterly depleted. He couldn't comprehend Error's motivations. Why specifically this soul?

"Oh? N-no nEEd? B-buT i D-donT haVe a-a g-goAts sOuL." Error replied, his tone dismissive, feigning a lack of understanding that only infuriated Ink further. Ink's mind raced, desperate to conjure an argument, a logical reason that would compel Error to release the soul, but his thoughts scattered. Nothing came to mind that could pierce Error's calculated apathy.

"Error, please! Give the soul back! I thought you hated the goat monster, why want one now?" Ink pleaded, trying a different tack, appealing to what little he knew of Error's preferences. He watched as Error's smile widened, a mischievous glint in his chaotic eye sockets.

"B-becUse I dOnT h-h-HaVe oNe." The answer was infuriatingly simple, yet utterly illogical. It wasn't about need or purpose; it was about possession, about asserting control.

"Please! Anything else! But give me the soul back!" Ink's voice cracked with desperation, his pride swallowed by the urgency of the moment. This soul was important, and its absence would cause untold grief.

"AnyThaNg?" Error's voice held a new, predatory lilt, a glimmer of interest sparking in his eyes.

Ink paused, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest. Was Error, the destroyer, actually willing to make a deal? To negotiate instead of simply annihilate? "As long as it's not another soul..." Ink mumbled, caution tempering his budding optimism.

Error tilted his head, his gaze piercing. "bEg. O-oN y-y-YouR KneEs."

Ink blinked. Beg? The word hung in the air, heavy with humiliation and a stark challenge to his very being as a protector and a creator. He scanned Error's dark, error-marked face, searching for any hint of jest, but the destroyer's expression was unsettlingly, unequivocally serious. This wasn't a joke.

And that was it? Just beg? A simple act of subservience for the return of a stolen soul? Ink eyed Error, who remained perfectly still, unmoving, his chaotic gaze fixed on Ink, patiently waiting for a response. It was worth a try. Everything was worth a try for a soul.

Taking a deep breath, Ink pushed off the ground, landing lightly on his feet before Error, who still floated imperiously above. Error always did like to try new things, to push boundaries, to provoke reactions. This was just another one of his twisted experiments.

With a profound sense of self-sacrifice, Ink sank to his knees, the harsh terrain of Underfell biting into him, though he barely registered the discomfort. He looked up, summoning every ounce of emotional vulnerability he could muster, his large, expressive eyes widening into the biggest puppy-dog eyes he could possibly conjure. "Please?" he whispered, the single word imbued with quiet desperation. His hands instinctively wrapped around his own body, a small, unconscious gesture of self-protection, as if shielding himself from the shame of the act.

Error seemed to glitch out of control for a moment, his skeletal frame flickering wildly, digital distortions rippling across his form. Then, to Ink's surprise, his body began to steam visibly, as if an immense, internal pressure was building. More Error symbols, glowing red and yellow, erupted across his already glitch-covered form, flashing like warning signs. The chaotic surge lasted only a few short seconds, an intense, almost painful-looking internal struggle. And then, just as abruptly as it had begun, it stopped.

Error was back to normal in the blink of an eye, the steam vanishing, the symbols receding, his composure perfectly, chillingly restored. His blue strings, which had held Toriel's soul captive, retracted suddenly, releasing their grip. The pinkish-purple soul, now free, drifted gently downwards, settling into Ink's outstretched, trembling hands.

Ink clutched the precious, created life force to his chest, his gaze darting up just in time to watch Error's form glitch one final, violent time before he vanished entirely, dissolving into the stark, empty vastness of the Anti-Void.

"What was that?" Ink murmured to himself, the question barely a whisper, the mystery of Error's strange reaction swirling within him, a new, unsettling puzzle piece in their complex, unending dance.

*remastered*