VOXISTALE: Novel Edition

Chapter 122

"Can't believe I geared up for nothin'," Doggo barked toward the wall.

"Ruff!" Lesser Dog barked back from his side, wagging his tail.

"NOT TO FRET!" Papyrus exclaimed, approaching them. "WE HAVE WON TODAY'S BATTLE, FRIENDS! OUR FIENDS COWER AND RUN!"

"you're getting really into the medieval setting," a fourth voice intruded. Papyrus turned to see Sans grinning back at him.

"I AM MERELY EMBRACING OUR LINEAGE!" he proclaimed with importance.

"i hear they're canceling the renaissance fair this year," Sans replied.

"GASP!" Papyrus expressed. "THEY WOULDN'T! I MUST CONFER WITH METTATON! WE HAD PLANS!" With that, Papyrus sped off. Doggo and Lesser Dog, no strangers to how interactions between the skeleton brothers usually went, had already edged away. Sans slid his arms into his crimson hoodie as his gaze wandered toward the other end of the throne room.

Asgore lay there, his ceremonial armor removed, blankets draped over him. Frisk was at his side, holding onto his massive paw that made her own hands look like that of an infant in comparison. She was desperately worried about him, but that couldn't really be afforded. The battle had been avoided for now, and the Messiah had fled in fear. Sans had a job to get back to.

He approached the girl to find she was asleep, head resting against the steady rising and falling of her adopted father's chest. "hey, kiddo," Sans spoke. Her eyes shot open, focusing immediately on him. She hadn't been asleep, just resting her eyes it seemed.

"Hey," she replied.

"i gotta get going," Sans said. "kept flowey waiting long enough. finish this here, and . . . well, we should have the new timeline holder by the time you're done." He winked, before turning to leave.

"Wait," her voice was quiet. He paused. "Can you stay a little longer?" Frisk asked. "What happens next . . . we'll need you."

"nah. you'll be fine, kid," Sans replied with a shrug. "i know you will. just . . . keep paps safe, will ya? and take care of yourself. some people might be gone, but someone still really cares about you." No more words were transacted between the two as Sans made his leave.

Frisk watched him go, feeling disappointed but . . . fighting a war didn't really seem to be something Sans would want to do anyway. The fact he'd stayed this long was a testament of their bond, however tested it may sometimes be.

They had no time to waste.

It had to be now.

While the night was still young.

Frisk squeezed Asgore's hand, before she rose to her feet, taking a deep breath. Everyone had gathered in the throne room to dry up and warm up. Fuku's fire had helped a lot, and she was lying down nearby, head resting in Rian's lap as he stared blankly forward. Sadie was at his side, flipping through pictures in her wallet, eyes red. Greg was near her, though more distant, arms folded over his chest as he stood, leaning against the wall, staring at the ground.

Magnum was standing near the exit of the throne room toward the balcony, hands stuck in the pockets of her jeans. Frisk approached her, to which Magnum nodded her head toward the balcony. Frisk followed her out to find the rain had since subsided. All that remained was the chill of the night air. It was freezing now. Had the storm continued there'd be an abundance of snow and ice in the morning, but most of that had been washed away. "Now's the perfect time," Magnum stated as they both stood there, staring out into the dark, the red in the sky having since vanished.

"I agree," Frisk replied. "It's now or never. We take the fight to them. We end this."

"Glad we're on the same page," Magnum sighed, offering a small smile. "I'm just . . . nervous."
"I'd be surprised if you weren't," Frisk shrugged back. "We're going up against people you grew up around. People you consider family. Maybe even some you still care about."
"Maybe . . ." Magnum muttered, glancing down at her feet. "But this needs to happen. If there's going to be peace, then the Messiah needs to be destroyed."
Frisk couldn't agree more.