VOXISTALE: Novel Edition

Chapter 53

"You look like a Hobber Snuff who just tangled with a Greater Ebow." Gerson laughed at the sight of Terrence as he came to a stop at the cave, panting, having no idea what either of those things were. He didn't immediately respond as he checked his phone to see that he was seven minutes late. Drat. "Sorry, Gerson . . ." Terrence replied, using his sleeve to remove some of the makeup on his face. "I've had an . . . interesting day."

"I can tell," Gerson continued to chuckle, clearly amused by Terrence's disastrous appearance, wiping a tear from his eye. "Hey, cut me some slack. You're talkin' to royalty, now, y'know," Terrence scoffed jokingly, turning his nose upwards. "Eh? You the king of bad fashion choices or something?" Gerson retorted.

"No I—" Terrence stopped, and couldn't help but grin as Gerson tossed him a towel. "Get yourself cleaned up, Mettaton wannabe." Gerson told him, pulling out his stick. "I've got somethin' I wanna show you."

"Oh really? Did you find more rock walls behind the rock walls?" Terrence's grin widened as he used the towel to remove the remaining makeup Catty and Bratty had put on him. Gerson whistled. "You've got a quick wit, boy. You're a lot like me, in that way."

"Think I'll get to conjure water with my hands, then?" Terrence asked eagerly, slipping out of the bits of Mettaton garbs about him, before shaking tem flakes out of his hair. Gerson cackled at that. "You wish! Magic is different for every human and monster. No magic is ever the same - in the rare exception of the Great Mages."

"Whaaaat? But what about my special once-in-a-century SOUL?" Terrence frowned. "That doesn't mean you're gonna be able to master any kind of magic you want!" Gerson continued to laugh. "It takes lots of practice to even get the basics down." Terrence pouted, having been certain he'd be splashing Greg with conjured water by next week. "Come on," Gerson gestured for Terrence to follow, and the two made their way into Crystal Cave. Terrence pulled out his phone to turn on the flashlight, but his hand was whacked by Gerson's stick. "Rely on your eyes, boy." Gerson snapped, the darkness consuming him as he continued inside. "Sheesh, alright—it's just so dark," Terrence replied, to which Gerson shook his head. "You'll adjust, toughen up," the turtle monster insisted as they continued to progress. It wasn't until Terrence had nearly tripped twice that he could actually start to make out what was three feet in front of him.

Even still, they traveled deeper, and he continued to trip and bump his head against rocks while he followed Gerson. Finally, they stopped, Terrence bumping into the old turtle. Gerson turned to him. "Conjure your SOUL." He ordered. "Um . . . I still don't know how. You had to spray me last time, remember?"

"C'mon, boy. If you don't do it yourself, you'll never learn."

"But . . . how? Come on, there has to be some trick."

"No tricks. You just let your mind reach into the inner depths of your being, and . . . presto!" Terrence frowned. He didn't really wander into his inner being or whatever that often. He closed his eyes, standing in place, trying to summon his SOUL. After several minutes, he began to feel pretty ridiculous. "This isn't working." He told Gerson, who cackled in reply. "Because you're not trying hard enough! Think about the attack on Frisk. Think about what you would have done could you have been useful, and not just a sack of meat for her to protect."

"Well, that's a bit harsh-"

"Focus!"

"Okay, okay!" Terrence closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, in and out . . . he took Gerson's advice, thinking about what had gone down. God, he still felt awful about it. Frisk could have been seriously hurt, or way worse. The Messiah was capable of nearly killing Undyne, after all. He wanted to protect everyone. Not just Frisk—but mostly Frisk. He opened his eyes- and to his surprise, an orange heart illuminated the shadows.