VOXISTALE: Novel Edition

Chapter 133

It was a silence that Frisk felt she could hear, as dumb as that sounded when that thought crossed her mind. Chara seemed to agree, clicking her tongue behind Frisk as she moved. Terrence was gasping for air, and to see him up close . . .

Her blood boiled at what she saw. That asshole back there had done this. Had broken down her boyfriend in a way she'd never believed possible. He was too weak to make any of his usual 'witty' remarks, or even say anything at all. A thought crossed her mind in that moment, different from the first.

Once this was over . . . there were still other sects to deal with, right? That's what Magnum had said. That meant this chore wasn't over.

Frisk would need to shoulder off as many weaknesses as she could in order to take down the cult in full.

That was later, she had issues to deal with now. Shaking her head to clear it, Frisk tugged Terrence along, the sounds of fighting reaching her ears. The Messiah SPEC soldiers were still standing, it seemed. She'd known Greg wouldn't really turn on them, he wasn't the double agent type. That nod earlier had been all she'd needed to know his motive, but his goal seemed contrived now, considering nothing had happened until she and the others had arrived. What had he been hoping to accomplish anyway?

Frisk supposed she could discuss it with Gregory later, assuming they both survived this ordeal. His actions didn't make a lot of sense, but Frisk had to consider that Gregory wasn't a trained fighter or anything. Maybe he'd just made a split second choice in order to avoid dying at the hands of whoever he'd been up against back at the bar.

As the sound of battle erupted against her ears, Frisk sat Terrence down against the nearest wall, her heart breaking at the way he practically went limp without support, his consciousness fading. Maybe she could afford to spare a minute in order to give him a bit of healing . . . but then again, if she left him here and went to help the others, Krashna could appear once more and drag her boyfriend right back to those chains. She had to get T to safety, keep her word to Gerson.

Frisk reappeared on the balcony Krashna had initially been standing on, and she was greeted with a sight that made her incredibly nervous. Mettaton was missing an arm, and was currently being held in place by a towering man with deep blue hair and a stare almost as cold, distant, and heartless as Ember's. Meanwhile, a second enemy attacked the machine from afar, rapidly firing off arrows of brilliant white light. They repeatedly collided with Mettaton's chest and stomach, the circuitry within him making many unpleasant noises as a result.

Where the hell was everybody else!? Frisk's eyes scanned over the room to see Raptor leaning against a wall for support, a gash in his leg. It seemed he'd just returned to his feet. The woman firing arrows had her foot on Magnum's throat, the pink-haired girl's face an unnatural shade of purple as she struggled against the boot.

Fuku was nearby in a heap, hopefully knocked out and not dead. Frisk had never actually killed her or Grillby before, so she wasn't sure how a flame elemental could perish. She was going to go with 'knocked out'. Gregory was crouched, leaning against a body—which Frisk realized was his mother's with a twist in her gut.

She didn't have much time to wonder what had happened. A glance back confirmed Krashna wasn't coming just yet, so she pulled Terrence off to the side. So long as he was out of the way, she could aid. Relinquishing him to lean against the wall, Frisk held out her hand to brandish her knife—before she paused, her lips forming a thin line, and she pulled her arm back, a shield materializing. "I'll be right back," she promised Terrence. With that, she hurled herself over the busted rails.

Although it pained Frisk to have to choose between which friend to help first . . . technically, Magnum was more at risk of actual death than Mettaton. A ghost could always get a new body, but once a human died, that was it. She raced toward the arrow-firing woman just as another beam of light was fired directly into Mettaton's stomach, his wiring completely exposed and billowing smoke unpleasantly. The large man tossed the battered body aside with little remorse, directing his attention to Frisk.