Frisk knows. They let the silence stretch, anyway -- kick their feet through the sand, almost absently. If they were just a little shorter, their feet wouldn't be able to reach the ground. It's weird to think they haven't grown. Haven't LOADED, but haven't grown. Even without their intervention, some things just don't change.

"I'm not playing to win, anymore."

They look into the fire.

"The game is over."