AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's a Saint Patrick's Day miracle! Potato actually finishing a chapter in less than two months! AAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

Big thanks to anyone still reading. Special thanks out to the guy running FanFiction_txt. Can't thank that guy enough for making me shit myself laughing every day. Obligatory thanks Captain for putting up with my constant bullshit. And uh... maybe ClevelandRock? I like that guy. Please watch IRL.

Oh and here's your pastebin: xQm6MHG6

It's kind of funny really. This story, statistically, is fucking garbage compared to the original. And yet, at the same time, I feel I'm enjoying this one much more. Just getting a little personal note in here I guess. I enjoy writing this story a lot, and review/viewer counts don't seem to be bothering me in the slightest, which is a good thing in my opinion. I'm not trying to rope in viewers or appeal to a crowd. I'm writing because I enjoy it.

As always: Read. Review. BUT, most importantly, enjoy!

"Master, the Demon Lord has been eradicated." the masked figure stated. He stood before Demise's desk, his cloak draping to the ground. Demise watched his emotionless white mask closely, almost as if he were expecting it to move at any time and smile. He wished it would break its trance, twisting into a devilish grin, its eyes filling with a burning fire of rage. But instead, its eyes remained hollow, a deep black filling them. Its mouth didn't move, it remained frozen. The pale shell simply stared, not at him, but through him, as though it was focusing on something in the distance.

"Ladufnjabdskhbadskfnban,dsmbgakdsjlb!1"

"Did you watch him die?"

"I was as close as I could get to watch him bleed out upon the ground."

Demise slammed his fist down on the desk. "You imbecile! Have you never read a single page of TVTropes? I have three words for you: 'Bond Villain Stupidity'. Why didn't you stay and watch to make sure he died?"

"Iadsbfhabdsf,n,bczbxcnbvzcx,bvzcuowhohaosudob!n jbfasdjnlajsd,bm,,mvm,"

"Rushing to Steak and Shake so you wouldn't miss Happy Hour is not a valid excuse!" Demise was furious. Outraged. Sick with anger. "I cannot believe I send two of you to go kill a single group of morons and you cannot accomplish your simple given task. Now they've got four pieces of the Triforce, and that bastard Ghirahim might still be alive. How are you this incompetent?"

"You say that as if we aren't trying. We've probably succeeded in killing that demon deadweight. Now that he's out of the picture, the big haired one and the shrimp will be easy to pick off."

Demise leaned in over the desk, bringing his face up to the masked villain's. "You put the Master Sword, the one item in the entire universe that can permanently injure me, right into the hands of the opposing force."

"Pardon my lack of understanding, but I thought they were gathering the Triforce to do that."

Demise paused. "...That's a plot device, it doesn't count."

"Ghdasuifhieyiggyewyrtyweyiwteitweirgkajdfsgffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff"

"I said it doesn't count, dammit!" Demise got up and paced back and forth behind his desk. "I send a flying bedsheet with a Party City mask and an attitude to do my bidding. I should've expected this."

"You do realize that I'm under contract for you? You could simply release me. Of course, being as how he's tied to my service, the Robokoblin comes with me, too."

Demise stopped and turned. He looked at the robed figure and the shoddy scrap metal monster standing next to him. He sat back down and adjusted the coffee mug on his desk.

"Well? Do you have an answer for me and my friend here?"

"Yes."

Demise got up once more and walked around the desk. He towered over the two puny mooks, glaring down at them. "Did you know that as supreme ruler of the Underworld, demons, and basically all things not living, I have access to thousands of demonic and passed entities, ranging from this dimension and stretching out far beyond what your small minds would be able to comprehend?"

"No I did not."

"Hdiygyegriyabkdf?dfaghkadbsb,nsfbfbfbbfbbfbfuehfiuahsdigiyage."

"No I will not bring back Abraham Lincoln from the dead. Anyway, I have complete and utter control over the world around me, as all things must die. And with death comes the darkness the fuels my soul." Demise strode to the corner of his office and took a book off of his bookshelf, flipping through a couple of pages. "I have access to those who have died, those who are dying, and even those who will die."

"And your point?"

"Well, I bet you're wondering why I'm telling you all of this, and it's a simple answer."

"You're setting up to an extremely convoluted joke and creating a backstory just so you can make the joke and worry over whether or not it's acceptable to those who may not immediately understand the reference?"

"...N-No! I'm using it to express my power. Now, looking through my index…" Demise stopped on a page, holding his finger on an entry. "...here. Though not dead yet, to answer your previous question, I'd like to quote none other than Vince McMahon, as listed here, to be dead in the coming years, at which point his soul becomes mine."

Demise leaned in very close to the two of them, then roared from the top of his lungs, a scream so deafening it caused the following words to be bolded and capitalized for emphasis, "YYYOOOUUU'RRREEE FFFIIIRRREEEDDD!"

"T...dafsilkn?aljdnjlfdnFADSFASAFSDSAFDFEWFSADGFDSHFDG?"

"No you will not receive any job security benefits! Get the hell out of my office!"

The masked villain remained still, waiting for the Supreme Demon Lord to finish. "Very well. Truly, I must thank you for telling me all about your role in the universe. Now I have something to wish for when I gather all the pieces of the Triforce. Oh, and thanks for telling me about all of that, too. I'm sure when the world alters to fit my image and to wrap itself around my dreams, I'll remember you."

In an instant, the masked figure wrapped itself and the Robokoblin up in its cloak, and simply vanished. Demise stood alone in his office, clutching the book in his hands. He calmly walked back to the bookshelf, returned the book to its place, and paced back to his desk. He sat down, resting his back in his chair, not uttering a single word.

Demise sighed heavily, and leaned forward in his chair, staring at the closed door in front of him. "...Well shit. Normally I'd have a witty one liner or at least something to close the chapter off on, but I've got nothing. At least I can rest assured those two buffoons won't get very far."

He wasn't happy in the least, yet he didn't feel an ounce of rage. He simply sat back in his chair and conjured up an image of the hero's journey. Perhaps it would be best to simply sit back, relax, and strap it down. Now that three potential parties were involved, he'd simply let those two destroy each other and swoop in, grab Groose's severed arm and bring it back with him to gain his piece of the Triforce. Then, combined with Zelda's piece that Groose had gathered and his own piece, he'd be able to wish for ultimate power, and he'd be able to wipe the slate clean, he'd be able to burn it down. And from the ashes a new Grooseland would be born! Evolved but unchained! The weak would be purged, and the strongest would thrive, free to live as they saw fit!

Demise smiled, images of demons running amuck across the face of the world dancing through his mind. The utter chaos his desires would bring brought nothing but crude, unbridled exhilaration to him. He was ready to rewrite the world from the ground up. Now, all he had to do was wait.

"My fault… my fault… my fault…"

Link heard the words run out of his mouth over and over again. He felt the weight of Ghirahim's injuries carried on his back. Groose had tried to persuade him not to go ahead alone. He wouldn't listen. While Groose camped back at the loading docks of Lanayru's shoreline, Link had gone ahead, braving the harsh conditions of the desert.

The wind was cold and bitter. It struck his face, chilling him to the bone. He held Ghirahim's limp body in his hands. He could feel him breathing. Pulsing with life. Albeit very little, Link clung to it. He pushed forward. Dune after dune, mile after mile. Link kept going. Darkness surrounded him, the sand beneath him falling away. Link didn't care.

He paused and looked to the night sky. He could barely make out the silhouette of a tall, rocky spire in the distance, but he was sure it was there.

"My fault… my fault… my fault…"

Link pressed forward, despite the raging winds, despite the bitter cold, despite the darkness of night shrouding his every movement. He kept on going, and he wouldn't stop until he reached that spire. He had to. Deep inside, he felt a deep sorrow, a mourning for what he had lost. The trust of a friend. A friend.