Corrupted Hero

by S. A. Morley

In the throes of war, Calamity Ganon pierced Link, striking him down. The Princess swiftly sealed Link away, but unbeknownst to everyone, he had been infected with Malice. For 100 years it festered inside him, transforming him into something less than Hylian. Though on the outside a monster, a hero lies within, and he will rise to right the wrongs of Hyrule. [ON HIATUS]

18. Devil's Tools

Ooh, it's finally here! Chapter 18 of Corrupted Hero! Can you believe it?! Because I sure can't!

Aw, geez… I promise you I had no intention for this update to take as long as it did. I was super stoked to adhere to a biweekly upload schedule. Truly, I was. I had everything planned out until the final chapters! And then… allergy season hit. And... the weather changed. Ugh. I suffer from vertigo spells that are triggered by weather patterns, and having both allergies AND spring showers hit at the same time totally did me in. I was so dizzy and my eyes were stinging so badly I could barely do my day job, let alone write. I am SO SORRY.

That said, I think I'm on the up-and-up. Thank you for your patience and support throughout all this. I hope the wait was worth it (this chapter was a delight to write, so fingers crossed)!

Also, I just wanted to throw a quick shout-out to the anonymous reviewer who drew me some fan art. I LOVED your rendition of corrupted Link. You captured him perfectly — his short horns, his crimson hair, his three eyes. I loved the bones, too! He looked AMAZING. Your art tickled me pink. :) I had to save it to my computer, I loved it so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Anyway, I won't blather on any longer. Please, enjoy the update! Let me know what you think~

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It was the briny scent of the sea, hinted with undertones of toasted coffee grounds, that woke Link the following morning. He stirred in his futon, his eyelids peeling open as a breath of cool air caressed his face. Blinking himself awake, his bleary eyes wandered about. All around him, the lab was still, quiet, and peaceful, the window panes aglow with fresh morning light. The only sounds in the air were the wind whistling against the outside walls and the subtle humming of the Guidance Stone across the room.

Cradled in his futon, Link breathed in the pleasant cocktail of smells in the air and released a long sigh. In spite of the revelatory bombardment he had endured the day before, he had slept quite well. He was rested, refreshed in mind and body, his head clearer than it had been in what felt like ages. In the midst of his mental chaos, he almost forgot what clarity like this felt like.

Rested as he was, his shoulder was stiff for some reason. He must have slept on it wrong. He stretched, his shoulder giving a sharp pop. Grunting, he ironed out a grimace and turned his head toward the futon beside him.

"Good morning — !" he began.

But he cut himself off. He was about to greet Maz Koshia, only to discover that the monk's futon was empty.

Puzzled, Link sat up, taking a closer look around. He found the lab deserted. The remnants of their planning from the night before lay untouched on the table. One of the front doors was ajar, letting in the breeze that cooled his skin and played with the corners of the papers littering the floor.

Link's brow wrinkled. Where was everyone? Had he overslept?

Not expecting to get an answer, he murmured to himself, "What time is it?"

But an answer came. A muffled chirp chimed from underneath Link's pillow, giving him a start. Reaching under his pillow, he pulled out the Sheikah Slate, turning it over and resting his eyes on its screen. His face twitched when he read the current time, displayed in crimson numbers. While helpful, he nonetheless found the Slate's attentiveness disconcerting. Especially since he hadn't asked for its help.

But he had no sooner read 7:02 AM when his attention was wrenched from the time and to his arm. Rather, what was missing from his arm.

His Malice — it was gone.

Link pitched back, sucking in a gasp. In his shock, he dropped the Sheikah Slate. It hit the floorboards with a heavy thunk. Breathless, Link gaped at his arm for a moment, only to be pulled out of his stupefaction when the Slate made a sound he had never heard it make before. It sounded like an irritated huff, blasting out of its nonexistent nostrils. Link's gaze flew to where the device had fallen. The Slate's red eye was fixed on him — almost scowling at him.

Link blinked, his cheeks burning under the device's gaze. "O-oh, sorry," he apologized, picking up the Slate and setting it gently into his lap. Nestled with its master, the Slate purred, warming slightly.

Link suddenly froze, the realization of what had just happened sinking in. The Slate had certainly showcased some interesting personality quirks, but it had never given him sass before. Slowly, he turned his eyes onto the device, almost afraid of what it might do next. Whatever Link was expecting never came, though. All was forgiven; the Slate still displayed the time for him. But there was something else radiating from it. Something that a machine shouldn't have been capable of exuding. Perhaps… an aura of contentment? It seemed happy to be with him. Happy that they were alone.

He had never given it much thought before, but... what exactly was this thing?

A chill darted down Link's spine at that notion, but he quickly shook it off. No, something else nagged at his mind, something that far outweighed the Slate's affections.

Heart beginning to race, Link's attention flew back to his arm. He pushed up his sleeve, his fingers tracing up and down his skin. He drank in every detail of his arm as if he had never seen it before. His semi-transparent skin was smooth; his radial bone shone with dull magenta light. But that was normal. Normal. There wasn't a speck of Malice in sight. Just yesterday, he worried he would have to get used to living with that disgusting, pulsating nightmare stuck to his arm. But not anymore. It was gone. It was nothing short of a miracle.

A wheezy spurt of laughter escaped Link, a wave of relief soaking him through to his glowing bones. As wild as it sounded, he never thought he'd be happy to see his own skeleton. He wiggled his fingers before his face with delight.

But the smile that had taken his lips faded, his mind wandering. He had run himself ragged the day before trying to rid himself of his Malice. Now, it had disappeared without a trace. How had this happened? He had no clue, but it didn't matter. His Malice was gone. He thanked any and all gods in the heavens for that.

Link's eyes widened. He had to tell the others about this. But where were they?

Another whiff of coffee roamed into Link's nostrils. Wait, coffee — Link gave a start, his eyes flicking to the front doors. The smell curled in on the breeze pouring through the open doorway. That familiar roasted, rustic smell was no doubt the same coffee Purah had been raving about. She and the others must have been outside somewhere.

With one final grin at his arm, Link pulled his hair back into a ponytail, snatched up the Sheikah Slate, and scrambled out of his futon. He burst through the front doors and skidded to a halt on the grass, raising a hand to shield his eyes against the sunlight glaring directly into his face. Tossing his head to and fro, Link searched the hilltop for any sign of Purah, Symin, or Maz Koshia.

Thankfully, he didn't have to search for long. "Hey! Mornin', sunshine!" came a sunny voice. "Where's the fire?"

Link whirled toward the source of the voice. It was Purah, seated beneath an awning jutting from the back of the lab. Symin sat beside her, alongside Maz Koshia. They were gathered around a low table laden with a loaf of bread, a bread knife, a bowl of red bean paste, and a pot of coffee, each of them sipping from a steaming ceramic mug. They all smiled at Link in spite of the dark circles hanging beneath their eyes.

But their smiles immediately slackened upon taking in Link's lack of Malice, their eyes collectively widening. Symin choked on a mouthful of coffee. Maz Koshia cocked his head. Purah, meanwhile, sat up ramrod straight, her eyebrows hitting her bangs.

"Link! Y-your arm!" she cried, pointing to him.

Link, grinning from ear to ear, nodded and rushed toward them, beaming, "I know! It's… it's gone! I-I don't know how, but it's gone!"

Maz Koshia set down his mug and waved Link over. "Come here, Link, let me see," he urged him.

Link obeyed, coming around and dropping to his knees before the monk. Purah and Symin leaned in closer, watching as Maz Koshia took hold of Link's wrist. The monk ran the rough pads of his fingers along Link's skin, his eyes scouring Link's bones from behind his veil. As Maz Koshia examined his arm, Link couldn't help but notice the cloth bandage wrapped around the monk's palm. A dagger of guilt stabbed Link's heart, but he didn't get a chance to dwell on it.

Maz Koshia shook his head, marveling, "I don't believe it… It's as if the Malice was never there." Awed for but a moment, his shoulders eventually sank, his gaze trailing up from Link's arm and to his tunic. Reaching out, he carefully laid his palm against Link's chest, over his heart. A shudder darted through both of them as the Malice inside them stirred.

Maz Koshia continued, his voice grim, "And yet… it still dwells within you."

Link squirmed, his ecstasy melting away. His gaze darted between his tunic and the monk. "What are you saying? The Malice on my arm… y-you think it went back in? Last time it just… melted off."

Maz Koshia sighed, his hand wandering to his throat. He swallowed. "I saw it myself," he replied. "Early this morning, while you slept, it… receded. Absorbed through your skin." His eyes searched through Link's face. "I am afraid it is not gone, Link, it is simply… slumbering."

Link's stomach soured. Staring into his hand, he murmured, "...Do you think it'll ever come out again?" But as soon as he said it, he was afraid he already knew the answer.

Maz Koshia's words were bleak when he responded, "Judging from what we have seen… and by its total saturation of your body... I would say it is inevitable. It's only a matter of when. Like it or not, it is a part of you now, wholly and completely."

When the monk caught the look of panicked nausea twisting Link's face, he sat up straighter and squared his shoulders. Encouragement warmed his voice as he reassured Link, "But fret not, hero. I have thought long and hard about all this." The monk cocked his head, luring, "I think we may be able to turn this curse into a blessing yet."

There was a brief pause. Symin and Purah exchanged an anxious glance, but Link didn't notice. He leaned back, staring into Maz Koshia's veil, his brows low and his eyes wide. He couldn't process Maz Koshia's words. Link's condition — no, the monk had put it well; his curse — was anything but a blessing. He wanted to be rid of it at any cost. And that was exactly what they had discussed the night before. Why would Maz Koshia go back on that?

Still, the monk's tone had Link morbidly curious; he sounded mischievous, cunning. Squinting at Maz Koshia, Link wondered, "...How do you mean?"

A wicked grin spread Maz Koshia's lips. He steepled his fingers, his voice dripping with fascination. "Think for a moment about the tool at your disposal. You have this Malice, this small fragment of Ganon — it has transformed you." With a humorless chuckle, he gestured to his neck. "L-look at what it is doing to me, compared to what it is doing to you."

As if on cue, the monk choked on the poison in his throat, doubling over as a wet, raspy cough stole his breath. Seizing up a cloth handkerchief from his lap, Maz Koshia spat up a mouthful of Malice into it. Everyone cringed. Link reached out to him, trying to help, but the fit soon passed, Maz Koshia waving him off.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, Maz Koshia cleared his throat, continuing, "...Case in point." He then unfurled his handkerchief, showcasing the shining magenta sludge slathering it. Everyone's faces twitched. Bunching up the handkerchief, the monk went on, "With this same Malice, Calamity Ganon brought an entire civilization to its knees. That kind of raw, devastating power has only been wielded by wicked hands."

Maz Koshia leaned toward Link, prompting, "Until now — now, it dwells within you, Link. A royal knight. A Champion! With your righteous authority, imagine what you could do with that power. What could you accomplish, if you were able to harness it?"

Link's blood curdled slightly as Maz Koshia's words seeped into him. The monk, in his wisdom, was right on all accounts — and that thoroughly disturbed Link. His infection, his resurrection… it had never been done before. Until now.

The monk's proposal was certainly novel, if not a great deal unsettling. Link had already seen what he could do with his Malice. So far, this "gift" from Calamity Ganon had wrought nothing but pain and panic. How could such a power do Link any good? Furthermore, how could it do Hyrule any good, if it had already razed it to the ground once? Part of Link wanted nothing to do with this; he wanted to bury his Malice deep and never see it or speak of it again. But another part of him perked up, eager to achieve its own potential.

What could he do with it...?

As Link stewed over the thought, a glimmer of inspiration dawned on Purah. Her eyes had widened further and further with each word out of Maz Koshia's mouth. "...Turn Ganon's own weapon against him…?" she breathed. "Just like he did to us."

Maz Koshia smirked. "My thoughts exactly, Director." Turning to Link, he held up a closed fist. "I say we find a way to tame this poison in our favor. Make it work for you, Link, and against him."

The monk smiled at Link's awe-stricken expression, continuing, "I-I know this sounds insane, but heed me, Link — you are our hero, tried and true, no matter what you carry inside you. And you will make him pay," Maz Koshia inspirited. Ten-thousand-years-worth of hope and defiance burned in his words. "For everything he has done. The souls he stole. The desolation he wrought. The life he robbed you of. Everything. With the help of the Divine Beasts, the Master Sword… and — if we can make this work — with the aid of The Beast's own Malice, you can — and you will — right the wrongs of Hyrule."

Maz Koshia held out an open palm to Link, chuckling, "I think we might be able to pull this off. With the right training, of course. I am willing to try, but..." Pausing, he cocked his head. "What say you? This power dwells within you. I… don't want to force your hand."

Link stiffened as everyone's gazes fell on him. Swallowing a lump in his throat, his eyes fell into his hands. He only then noticed that he was shaking.

As Link stared into his glowing bones, his mind swam with images of Calamity Ganon. Of his great shadow ensnaring Hyrule Castle. Those cold, unfeeling yellow eyes. The beast's inhuman roar echoed in his ears, sending a shiver down his spine.

Link's expression hardened at the reminder that Ganon had wormed his way inside of him. The notion was both great and terrible. In his mind's eye, Link re-lived his attacks on Izer and Maz Koshia. Harrowing as they were, they paled in comparison to Calamity Ganon's deeds. But even so, a fraction of that power now lived within Link. It had brought him back from the dead. It was sustaining him. He struggled to imagine all that he would be capable of if he somehow managed to tame this… beast.

But could he do that? Wield such a weapon? Moreover, would he even want to?

Would he even dare?

Up to that point, Link hadn't explored the full potential of his Malice. It had never occurred to him to do so; he had never considered it anything less than a plague. While that sentiment still lingered, Link couldn't deny the almost intoxicating exhilaration that pumped through his body whenever he used it. That rush, that thrill — it had no equal.

If he could better wield it, better understand how it worked, then there was no telling what he could do. It was, dare he say it, kind of exciting. But even then, the thought of the damage he had dealt because of it still polluted his brain with uncertainty. With it, he had obliterated a Yiga clansman, shattered Maz Koshia's neck, traumatized Purah and Symin — maybe he had even traumatized himself.

Was this really something he wanted to trifle with?

Link's heart fluttered with anxious ambivalence. He exhaled, hunkering over, his ears ringing for some reason. He couldn't pry his gaze from his shaking hands. Maybe he was imagining it, but the Sheikah Slate seemed to be overheating, his skin prickling against it.

Ignoring it, Link swallowed, finding his voice. "You really think I could control it?" he breathed.

Maz Koshia shrugged. "If Ganon can manipulate it, then I have good faith that you can learn to do the same. I realize that we do not fully understand how it functions, but this might prove to be the perfect opportunity to find out." His fingers curled, his shoulders stiffening. "I hunger for that knowledge... It has eluded me from the moment I laid eyes on you. I'm certain you feel the same…?"

Link brought his eyes up to meet Maz Koshia's veil. Pursing his lips, Link nodded. It went quiet for a moment as Link continued to mull it over. He still wasn't completely convinced that this was a good idea. There was so much that could go wrong. So much that had already gone wrong.

Link let out a weary sigh. "But… w-what if I can't do it?" he murmured. "What if I can't control it?"

Maz Koshia's expression solemned somewhat behind his veil. "Then we must work to suppress it," he replied, his voice gentle. "That we will explore, regardless. I have a few methods we could test..." He looked deeply into Link, holding him fast in his gaze. "But I want to ensure that you are comfortable with this. This is your choice, Link. Either way, I will fully support your decision."

As Link thought again over the monk's proposal, he found himself gripping the Sheikah Slate. He hadn't been imagining things — it was heating up on his hip, and it had begun to hum, though only he could hear it. The Slate's humming reverberated through him, exciting his Malice — frothing his blood, jittering his bones. Link's mind was too full to realize that the Slate was encouraging him.

C'mon, you know you want to, came a thought.

And Link did. Deep down, he knew he did, in spite of his hesitations.

Then another thought sprung to life in his mind. One that he hadn't thought of himself, but one that he couldn't ignore.

You were made for this.

That thought alone sparked something inside Link, overwhelming his doubts. He was made for this. Destroy the beast. It had been his task since before he had fallen, and it still called to him. Suddenly the words of King Rhoam found their way into his mind as well, imploring him: Do whatever it takes to annihilate Ganon. Link couldn't break his promise to the King… to Zelda. He had to fulfill his charge, whatever it took. Even if it meant facing his demons.

Link's brows knit together with determination, a fire stoking in his gut. He tightened his fists and looked to Maz Koshia, nodding. "It's worth a shot. Let's do it. Whatever it takes."

Link was too distracted by Maz Koshia's reply to notice the Slate's humming fade out.

Maz Koshia replied to Link with a firm nod of his own. "I'm pleased to hear you say that." Smiling, the monk reached out and clapped Link on the shoulder. "Let's get to it, then. Now, we train. You and me. It would be my honor to work with you, hero."

A smile upturned the corner of Link's mouth. He bowed his head to the monk, replying, "Likewise."

Maz Koshia smiled as well. He returned Link's bow.

They were quickly torn from each other's gazes when Symin and Purah began to hyperventilate beside them. Link and Maz Koshia turned their heads toward the two Sheikah, brows raised, to find them both grinning from ear to ear, bouncing with anticipation.

Purah fanned herself with her hands, her eyes shimmering. "Oh my gosh, this is so exciting!" she said brightly. She leaned towards Link and Maz Koshia, clasping her hands, begging, "Oh please, please, please, can we watch?!"

Symin added, "Y'know, for science?"

Maz Koshia chuckled. "You are welcome to watch, if you like. The more people who understand how this works, the better."

Purah beamed and pumped her fist. "Yes! Check it!" she cheered. Swiveling, she and Symin exchanged an exuberant high-five. "Let's do this, assistant of mine. Argh, I can't wait!"

"Me neither," Symin replied, his smile wide. Turning to Maz Koshia, he added, "We'll take good notes, I promise."

Maz Koshia nodded gratefully. "I would expect nothing less from you. Thank you very much for your help."

Link agreed with a nod of his own.

A split second of silence passed. Purah tossed her gazes between everyone before shooting to her feet. "Well, what are we sitting around here for?! Let's get going!"

Eager as they all were to begin, Maz Koshia held them back to ensure Link got some food in him. At everyone's insistence, Link wolfed down his breakfast. As he ate, they chatted. About the nice weather, Bolson's antics, their anticipation for Link's training. Maz Koshia was the most excited out of them all — he couldn't sit still.

They spent some time brainstorming where they should go. The lab itself was out of the question, and the area immediately around it wasn't quite spacious enough for their needs. There was a beach far below, at the base of the cliff, but they decided that hiking to and from it would prove tiresome — especially for Maz Koshia, given the state of his health. Ultimately, they settled on the land near Lake Sumac, where Link had retired to the day before. It wasn't too far away, provided decent acreage, and was hidden enough away from Hateno so as to provide some privacy.

With that sorted, and with Link fed, they cleaned up the table. Returning to the lab, they quickly gathered up supplies before heading out. Symin and Purah packed notepads and pencils and the Slate Lite, as well as some medical supplies. Just in case. Maz Koshia brought his own notes and a few extra handkerchiefs, stuffing his pockets with them. Link brought the least with him — just the Sheikah Slate, leaving behind his scarf and goggles. He wouldn't need the latter; all of his other tools were still at the lakeside.

Maz Koshia, his eyes on the Sheikah Slate, noted, "Ah, good, the Slate. Bring that along, Link, we will need to take a look at it, as well."

The device seemed to shudder on Link's hip. Slapping a hand against it, he gave a crooked, nervous smile and made sure it was secured to his belt. After its bizarre episode earlier, he figured it was about time they gave it a good inspection. But he would tell Maz Koshia about it later. For now, they had his Malice to wrangle with.

With supplies in-hand, the group set off for the lake. It seemed the wind itself was as eager as they were; it hurried them along as they made their way downhill, rippling the grass. Along the way, Maz Koshia walked extremely close to Link, clinging to his shoulder for support. He still walked with a bit of a totter, his breath little more than a wheeze. Concerned as Link was for the monk's health, he was glad he was there to help. He just hoped that their training wouldn't prove too taxing on him.

The trek down didn't take them long. Blackened grass crunched beneath their feet as they finally approached the lakeside. Link was taken aback at the state of the place — the once-peaceful area had been reduced to something of a war zone, the dark grass littered with swords, branches, a ruined frying pan, his packs. Link hadn't given the area a second glance before, but he had left it in much worse shape than he found it.

Regaining his breath, Maz Koshia slowed as he looked upon the area, his brows wrinkling. He paused when his toe met something in the grass. Glancing to his feet, he bent over, picking it up and feeding his gaze on it.

It was a long broadsword. This particular sword was one Link had taken from the Great Plateau. He had used it to try and lance off his Malice the day before, but to no avail. The blade, originally dappled with rust, was now completely cankered with it. Only the rust was discolored; it was dark, more of a deep, purplish-red, akin to a bruise.

"That's interesting…" Maz Koshia murmured.

"What is?" Link asked, gathering in closer. Symin and Purah followed suit.

Maz Koshia held the broadsword out thoughtfully. "I originally believed that Malice only eats away at organic material," he began. "But it seems that it affects inorganic material just as well."

He brought everyone's attention to the bandage covering his hand, tugging at it and revealing his palm. Or, what was left of it. The act of touching Link's Malice the night before had reduced the monk's palm to a gaping hole, exposing the bones in his hand.

Link cringed back, his heart squeezing in his chest. His Malice had done that. He'd hurt Maz Koshia, again. But Link didn't get the chance to wallow in the thought. Without warning, the broadsword's blade dissolved into dust, startling them all. Everyone watched, awed, as it scattered away with the breeze.

Maz Koshia gaped at the sword's hilt before dumping it onto the grass. "Well all right, then," he mused. "I suppose that takes blunt force trauma off the list of ways to remove Malice..." He shrugged. "That's fine — I have a few other ideas we can try." Looking to Link, he proposed, "But we'll need to coax it out of you first."

Link swallowed, his heart giving a heavy thump. Now that they were about to try it, he began to second-guess if he was prepared for this — especially after relishing in his newfound freedom from his Malice. But he nevertheless complied. He couldn't run from this. It was now or never.

"Okay. Let's do it," he said.

Maz Koshia nodded. Gesturing around, he proposed, "Here, we'll need to make some room."

The four of them dispersed to clear the grass of Link's tools, piling everything by a tree in the nearby grove. Once everything was put aside, Maz Koshia and Link stood in the heart of the lakeside, several yards apart, facing each other. Symin and Purah settled down beneath a tree a ways away, pulling out their supplies. Symin adjusted his glasses and held a notepad and pencil at the ready; Purah gripped the Slate Lite, aiming it at Link and Maz Koshia, itching to snap pictures.

"You can do it, Linky!" she cried. "Let 'er rip!"

"You got this!" Symin added.

Link shot them a weak smile. "Erm… thanks!" Turning to face the monk, he found him standing with his arms folded, his head bowed. Link tilted his head, wondering, "Everything okay, Maz?"

There was a pause before Maz Koshia responded. The passing breeze ran its fingers through everyone's hair.

The monk gave a light snort. "I was just thinking…" he murmured. "This moment — right now — is the culmination of my existence. Thousands of years ago, the Goddess came to me in a vision, filling my mind with images of you, of the day I was to train you. Since then, I have worked tirelessly to prepare you to combat Calamity." He raised his head. "After all this time, that day is finally here. I'm... I'm standing in it."

Link couldn't help but shiver at that, his eyes widening. The span of time alone was dumbfounding.

Maz Koshia continued, his voice wavering slightly, "I have looked forward to this day for millennia." He shook his head. "But now that I am here… it's not at all what I had envisioned..." He drifted off, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and coughing up some Malice into it.

It went quiet for a moment after the monk's coughing subsided. Link shifted his feet, unsure of how to respond. All he could manage was a reverent, "...I don't think any of us could have guessed things would turn out like this, Maz."

The monk's long bout of silence signaled his agreement. Finally, he shrugged, sighing. "Well... perhaps that is a good thing? It is keeping this old Sheikah on his toes, just as it should to you, Link." He straightened, pocketing his handkerchief. "But enough of that. In light of recent developments, I must now modify my training regimen for you, hero." He frowned to himself. "It may not be what I have been rehearsing all these years, but we will make do."

Pressing his palms together, the monk zeroed in his gaze on Link. "Now then," he began, clearing his throat. "In the name of the Goddess Hylia… I offer this trial." At his word, the eye of the Sheikah on his veil sparked with an orange fire, making Link lean back.

With a smile, Maz Koshia stated, "Let us begin."

A ways off, Symin and Purah both squealed.

Link half-noticed their reactions; his body and mind tensed in anticipation. The last few times Maz Koshia's veil had glowed like that, the monk had surged forward like a man possessed, whether it was to interrogate Link or to attack him. It was honestly quite terrifying. This time, however, the monk paced carefully toward him, his gait a bit wobbly, but his stature nonetheless intimidating. Link did his best to stand tall as Maz Koshia came and stood before him, towering above him.

The eye of the Sheikah stared intently into Link as the monk began, "First and foremost, we need to try to bring out your Malice, Link."

Link fanned his fingers out, studying them. "O-okay," he said. "How do we go about doing that?"

"Like this," the monk replied curtly. Without warning, he lunged forward and gave Link a firm shove, making him stagger.

Maz Koshia was much stronger than he looked — something Link had forgotten. The monk just about knocked the wind out of him with that push alone. Stumbling to stay on his feet, Link gawked at Maz Koshia, eyes bulging.

"H-hey! What was that for?!" he stammered.

Maz Koshia cocked his head and ambled toward Link, replying, "Correlation is not causation, Link. I intend to find out which is which..."

Before Link had time to process what he was saying, the monk had caught up to him, and was rearing his arms back to shove him again. Not wishing to endure another shove, Link sidestepped. Despite his evasion, Maz Koshia still managed to strike him thanks to his long reach, whacking Link across the cheek with the back of his hand.

Link's head snapped to the side, his neck popping. Gasping, he stumbled and cupped his stinging cheek, wearing a twisted expression of shock and pain as he faced the monk. "Argh! Maz!?" he cried, his breath quickening.

Maz Koshia wasn't moved by Link's protests. "C'mon!" he pressured, brandishing his fists. "Have at you! Show me what you can do!"

Link recoiled, finally understanding what Maz Koshia was attempting. He wanted to fight him. Link's face contorted, his gaze flickering from the monk's bandaged hand, to his haggard posture, to the scraps of flesh clinging to the hole in his neck. Link's stomach rolled with dread, the gruesome crack of the monk's bones haunting his thoughts.

Link couldn't do it. This wasn't at all what he was expecting his training to come to. He held up his hands, surrendering before he even began. "No — Maz, I-I can't fight you," he said, shaking his head.

Maz Koshia's brows knit together. His veil burned a little brighter. "You can't? Or you won't?" he snapped.

Link's cheeks burned for some reason. "I won't," he repeated. "I won't fight you."

Maz Koshia frowned beneath his veil. Crossing his arms, he posed, "That's odd — I seem to recall you saying something earlier, Link. 'Whatever it takes', is that right?"

Link cringed, hanging his head. "I know what I said, but… but I didn't mean this! Fighting you...! I won't do it, Maz, I'm sorry. W-we'll figure something else out."

But the monk was undeterred. He shook his head, challenging, "How else do you propose we bring out your Malice then, hm? During both of your outbursts, you were under attack, were you not?" He prowled toward Link. "You aren't fighting me, are you, Link? It's what's inside you…" He then leaned toward Link, purring darkly, "Come on out, beast. We have unfinished business, you and I."

Link shuddered against a disquieting sensation that struck him from out of nowhere. His guts squirmed inside him like snakes, roused by Maz Koshia's words. Blood chilling, Link gasped, his hands flying to his abdomen — to his scar.

Maz Koshia perked up slightly, noting Link's reaction. With newfound fervor, he grinned, continuing his advance. "Well, now — it looks like we're getting somewhere already."

But Link, still unwilling to raise a hand against the monk, maintained his retreat. He was beginning to break out in a sweat despite the cool, brisk breeze. He shook his head, stammering, "Wait Maz, I-I'm starting to think this isn't a good idea. There's gotta be another way — "

"Why, on the contrary," Maz Koshia scoffed, his voice low and gravelly. "This is the best idea I've had in centuries…" He stopped, releasing an exhale. Blue light gathered at his fingertips, mesmerizing Link for a brief moment. Link's gaze was wrenched back to the monk's face when he forewarned him tenderly, "Know that I'm doing this for you, Link. I mean you no ill will." His voice then gained a hungry edge. "The beast is my prize!"

Bowing his head, the monk pressed his glowing fingertips together, his fingers forming a triangle. A ghostly growl echoed from behind his bared teeth, his arms trembling as he focused his energy.

Link could only stare. He had no idea what the monk was doing. He watched, stunned, as the blue light on Maz Koshia's fingertips brightened, rapidly spreading over his body until it coated him completely. Link squinted against the light, taking a step back. Then, with a mighty shout, the monk thrust his arms out, his light growing to blinding levels. Link flinched and pinched his eyes shut, taking another step back.

He bumped into something. Link's brows immediately crunched in confusion — he and Maz Koshia were standing in the middle of the lakeside, away from any trees. What had he hit? Blinking away the light that scalded his eyes, Link was about to whirl around to investigate when a hand clamped onto his shoulder from behind.

He froze. Slowly, his eyes adjusted, revealing a bizarre sight. Maz Koshia stood directly in front of him — and all around him. The monk had spontaneously multiplied. Nine individual copies of him surrounded Link on all sides like a wall of soldiers, each of their veils ablaze.

Heart hammering, Link's gaze darted between each iteration of the monk — they were a humbling, if not a bit brain-bending, sight. A drop of fear chilled his stomach.

Link shrunk into his shoulders, breathless. "Maz…?!" he managed to gasp.

The monk directly in front of Link leaned into his face, growling, "Challenge me."

Something inside Link snarled at the familiar phrase; his stomach flipped, his breath hitching. But he didn't have time to panic over it before the monk before him stepped back, the hand on his shoulder tightening its grip. Link was pushed forward, crashing to his hands and knees with a grunt.

While kneeling in the shadow of Maz Koshia, Link's mind surged with memories of the Shrine of Resurrection, memories that shot his blood with cold, biting fear. He suddenly felt as though he was there again, cowering beneath the vengeful wrath of the monk. Surely, Maz Koshia remembered what followed?

Indeed, both Link and Maz Koshia knew very well what had occurred in the Shrine. Before, it had taken the monk by surprise. But he knew what to expect now. And he was going to do everything in his power to replicate what transpired — whatever it took.

A foot appeared on Link's back, cutting off his thoughts. He was forced downward, his face plunging into the crunchy grass. Link ground his teeth, a pang of anxiety squeezing his lungs.

One of Maz Koshia's copies ground the sole of his foot into Link's spine. "Let's try this again, beast…" the monk teased with a hiss. "I'm ready for you this time."

Something inside Link wanted to contest that.

With only a fraction of hesitation, several of the monk's copies reared their feet back, pummeling Link's ribs. Link cried out, his bones creaking. Again, the monk — even his copies — hit harder than his frail body advertised. As much as Link didn't want to fight him, he wasn't about to lie there and take a beating. He had to get away.

Lungs straining against his sore ribs, Link rolled out of Maz Koshia's range. But when he landed on his back, he was immediately faced with four more of the monk's copies. They loomed above him, each brandishing a sword. It was an ancient sword, one that Link had yet to see. It was of Sheikah design, the aesthetics of its hilt reminiscent of the Sheikah Slate. Its blade was crafted from a shaft of intense, crackling blue energy — and four of them were aimed right at Link.

Maz Koshia's copies lunged for him, swords outthrust. Defenseless, Link flipped to his hands and knees, scrambling out of harm's way. But he didn't get away unscathed. A panicked grunt escaped him when the ancient blades grazed his back and his legs, slicing clear through his clothes, searing his flesh. Suppressing a rising foam of panic bubbling up inside him, he stumbled into a hobbled run and made a break for a gap in the monk's ranks.

But Link's flight was abruptly halted when Maz Koshia himself came into existence before him in a puff of smoke. Link flinched, sucking in a gasp, but he couldn't reroute himself in time before he tumbled headlong into the monk. Maz Koshia gripped him firmly by the wrists and pinned his arms into his sternum, shoving his burning veil into his face.

"And here I thought we were training, Link. Rise up and fight me!" the monk ordered.

Even if Link had wanted to fight back, he couldn't move his arms. All he could do was reply with a brisk shake of his head. Maz Koshia gave an exasperated grunt. Link's chin hit his chest when the monk threw him backward. He hit the ground hard, his molars pinching down on his tongue. The metallic tang of blood ran over his taste buds. Eyes watering, Link suddenly found himself lying, spread-eagle, at the center of a ring of towering monks.

Maz Koshia took a shaky step forward, summoning a sword of his own and jamming it into the grass between Link's legs. Link gave a yipe — he could feel the heat of the sword's blade soaking into the material of his pants. Stooping, the monk reached out and seized up two fistfuls of Link's tunic, dragging him to his feet and lifting him off the ground like he weighed nothing.

Link held onto the monk's wrists as he dangled. Though Maz Koshia's hands were firmly knotted into his tunic, Link's throat still cinched as if the monk were crushing it, his breath surging in and out in brisk gasps. He had been in this position before, and he wasn't eager to be in it again. But he wouldn't fight it. He wouldn't dare.

"Maz, please stop — I won't fight you!" Link pled. "We'll find some other way!"

The monk growled and gave him a shake. "Don't give me that!" he retorted. The eye on his veil gouged into Link, delving beyond his gaze, endeavoring to coax out what lurked within. "You had no qualms with fighting me back in the Shrine. Why hesitate now, beast?"

Beast. BEAST — Goddess, Link hated that word. A glare warped his brow before he could stop it. Through bared teeth he fired back at the monk, "Stop calling me that."

The monk smirked. He released his grip, dumping Link to his feet on the grass. After finding his footing, Link stood a little taller, his hands unconsciously tightening into fists as Maz Koshia continued to pressure him.

Jabbing Link hard on the shoulder, the monk taunted, "Then give me one good reason, beast. I know you're in there — come out and give it to me yourself!"

The monk reached out to shove him again. But Link reacted this time. His hand automatically flew up to catch the monk's wrist. For a split second, the two locked eyes, neither of them blinking. Link's face was twisted into a deep-set glare, his lip curled, his amber eyes smoldering. Maz Koshia, meanwhile, beamed at him with fiendish delight.

Chuckling, Maz Koshia leaned into Link, tempting him, "I dare you to do it."

Something inside Link leapt out of its den at the monk's invitation. It bulldozed through his body, clawing at his chest, raking at his heart. His pulse skyrocketed, roaring in his ears. As he held Maz Koshia's wrist, Link gave an involuntary jolt forward, as if something had pushed him from within.

The sensation was fleeting, but it left Link shaken. He blinked back into himself, his wicked expression going slack, his eyes widening in horror. This — this felt different. But Goddesses above, something was happening to him. Maz Koshia's taunts were working. Perhaps a bit too well. Link's abdominal muscles clenched as his gut boiled with two distinct emotions — loathing and exhilaration. It made him want to vomit and scream at the same time. He could feel his Malice churning in his veins, eager to lash out at Maz Koshia.

But he wouldn't do it. Not like this. Not at Maz Koshia's expense.

Something caught Link's eye, then, distracting him from his rising horror — the bones in his fingers, they were glowing. A horrified wheeze pulverized Link's lungs as he caught sight of them. He immediately let go of Maz Koshia, taking a step back. His body shook violently. He found himself struggling to breathe.

He clutched his abdomen, shrinking in on himself. "No — I-I can't — " he stammered, shaking his head.

Maz Koshia gaped at him, astonished by his refusal to cooperate. "What?! Why not?!" he shouted. "This is what we're training for, Link!" He threw his hands up. "Just let it out!"

"NO!" Link refused through gritted teeth. "Not like this!"

"What do you mean?! How else are we going to bring it out, then?! Stop fighting it! LET IT OUT, LINK!" Maz Koshia demanded.

Link knew this was what they had meant to do, but he still couldn't bring himself to let go. True, his power was tempting, but he was too afraid of what he might do to Maz Koshia if he lost control again. He had already snapped his neck, paralyzed him. Poisoned him. He couldn't bear the thought of doing anything worse.

Link's stubbornness was enough to send Maz Koshia over the edge. Link choked when the monk and his copies moved as one body, lunging toward him and crowding around him in a claustrophobic circle. Like a hail of arrows, Maz Koshia and his copies began to spit commands at Link and push him around, peppering him from all sides in an incessant barrage.

"C'mon, beast! Come on out!"

"Show yourself, coward!"

"Let it out, Link! You can do this! Just let it take over!"

"C'mon! C'MON!"

Link's ears filled with the monk's voice, each word overwhelming his senses to the breaking point. A shrill tinnitus split his skull, his heart bashing itself to pulp against his ribs. The more he was tossed around, the more the swell of Malice inside him surged toward its escape. He could feel it rising, hot and caustic, from the depths of his gut. Teeth chattering, Link's fingers curled as a deluge of tingling numbness coursed through him from head to toe.

Link's stomach dropped. He sucked in a rattled gasp. Cupping his hands over his ears, he dropped to his knees, belting out a desperate, "NO!"

Link's voice echoed around the lakeside; a flock of birds in a nearby tree scattered into the sky. All at once, Maz Koshia stopped his assault, each of his copies following suit. The blazing Sheikah eye on his veil doused. The monk stood stiffly, suddenly out of breath, as he beheld Link where he had fallen. Link ground his nails into his scalp, endeavoring to take control over his erratic breath. Ears ringing, he grimaced against the nauseating heaving of his Malice inside him. Somehow, he was able to keep it at bay, but he was far too frantic to realize it.

After a long moment of tense silence, Link managed to stammer, "I can't do it, Maz!"

Link was too overwhelmed to notice the distant, subtle rustling of Symin and Purah as they got to their feet, growing concerned. Maz Koshia turned his head to glance at them. He held up a hand, reassuring them everything was under control. Turning back to Link, he sighed, waving away his copies. They diffused into the air in a shower of blue light.

The monk stood above Link for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. Eventually, he pursed his lips and carefully lowered himself down on one knee. He knelt there for a moment beside Link, listening to his rapid gasping. Maz Koshia gently thumped his fist into the grass, murmuring, "Link… Link, we were so close. I could feel it. You felt something, didn't you?"

Link's shoulders sunk. "...Yes."

"Then why wouldn't you let it out?" the monk asked softly.

Link hung his head, wrapping his arms around himself. "I just can't shake this feeling… What if I can't control it, Maz?" he whispered. "What if I hurt you again…?"

Maz Koshia blinked, leaning back slightly. "Hurt me? Link, you shouldn't worry about that."

Link shook his head, breathing, "How can you say that?! I thought I killed you once — thank Hylia I didn't, but… I couldn't live with myself if I succeeded." Link, his heart completely shattered, raised his head. His face was wracked with misery. "Please, Maz, there must be some other way."

Maz Koshia's chest hollowed out at Link's confession. He laid a hand on his mouth, stroking his chin as pity filled his heart. As he studied Link's weak expression, the monk found himself a tad disappointed. He was so eager to coach Link into mastering his Malice, so ready to throw this back into Ganon's face. But now that he had paused to listen, he could understand Link's hesitations. The destructive power sleeping inside him was daunting, no doubt, and Maz Koshia suddenly realized that he had put a tremendous amount of pressure on Link. Even so, he had had high hopes going into this. But it seemed he wasn't about to get anywhere using his current methods. He needed to change tactics.

But what else could they try? At the outset of Link's prior outbursts, he had been in combat, under emotional and physical stress. From what Maz Koshia could gather, those were two primary triggers for his Malice. They had worked then, but they weren't working now. Link simply refused to fight. But surely there had to be another way?

The monk's strength, both physically and mentally, finally gave out. He plopping to his backside on the grass, laying his palms on his knees, sighing. "Well… you held it back," he mused, cocking his head. "That's progress, right?"

Link blinked, staring into his shaking hands. He slowly realized that Maz Koshia was right. Somehow, he had prevented his Malice from bursting out of him. It still churned inside him, but it was gradually petering out as Link's raging heartbeat slowed.

Link swallowed thickly, awe somewhat dissolving his panic. "Y-yeah. I guess I did," he breathed.

He jumped when Maz Koshia playfully brushed his shoulder, encouraging him. "Well, then, I would say that's a start," the monk began. "Granted, we still have much to learn, but we'll get there. I believe in you." Drifting off, he paused, sighing to himself. "Link, I know this was... difficult for you. And perhaps I was a bit overzealous. I apologize for that. Regardless, I think it's safe to say that mastering your Malice won't come easily, nor will it be painless..."

Link frowned, his shoulders sagging. He understood. Part of him wasn't looking forward to finding out just how painful it might be, but he agreed with a silent nod.

Maz Koshia went on, his voice level and careful, "That being said, I do still want to try this exercise again. So far, stress of this caliber has proved successful." His words made Link cringe, but the monk softened the blow by adding, "We'll try out a few other methods first, don't worry. I won't throw you back into that fire just yet." He tapped his fingers on his knee, proposing, "I'm thinking we try meditation next. Something less… strenuous. Does that sound reasonable?"

Link's lips pursed. He nodded again, exhaling deeply through his nose. "Yes, Maz Koshia." He bowed his head, both in submission and in shame. "I'll… try to do better."

Reaching out, the monk laid a gentle hand on Link's shoulder. "I know you will," he replied.

Link's hurricane of emotions settled somewhat at that.

For a moment, the two of them fell silent. Link's eyes wandered into Maz Koshia's lap, his gaze resting on the bandage wrapped around his hand. Noticing Link's stare, Maz Koshia brushed his thumb against it, saying quietly, "Link… you shouldn't worry about hurting me. My body isn't what it used to be, but I can take more punishment than you think, in spite of my looks."

Link blinked several times at the monk's strange words. He supposed that made sense, given how much he had put the monk through, but at the same time, it hardly made any sense at all. But he didn't get a chance to ask any further questions before Maz Koshia continued, "But even then, my body won't last forever. I wasn't meant to last as long as I have. This detour into studying your infection... it wasn't planned."

Puzzled, Link's face twisted. "What are you saying, Maz?" he wondered, a new pang of dread sullying his blood for some reason.

As Link awaited Maz Koshia's response, he barely noticed the arrival of Symin and Purah. They padded up to meet them almost silently, their ears already tuned into their conversation.

Taking note of Symin and Purah's presence, Maz Koshia chewed his lip. He wasn't sure how he was going to put this delicately. Steepling his fingers, he explained, "By the grace of the Goddess, I have lived beyond my time, preserved to train the chosen hero." He shrugged. "But once my purpose is complete, I must return to her."

Just as Maz Koshia had feared, Link, Symin, and Purah all gave a start, their eyes widening.

"Maz Koshia!" Purah cried.

"No!" Symin added.

Link leaned forward, his heart stuttering in his chest. "What?!" he blurted. "You're going to leave? Why now? I-I need you, Maz!"

Startled by their reactions, the monk raised his hands, hurriedly adding, "Oh, but I won't leave right at this moment. No, no, no, not now. But eventually, I must." When he caught the wounded looks in everyone's eyes, he sighed and shook his head. "You must understand — your journey is not mine. I am merely a part of it." He glanced at Link. "Once I fulfill my task, to the Goddess I must return."

"How long will you be with us?" Symin asked.

Maz Koshia shrugged again. "I cannot say for certain. A few weeks? Longer, perhaps? I intend to engage Link with my original training regimen, but my main concern is taming his Malice." He exchanged a grim look with Link, continuing, "I have no idea how long that will take; we have a lot of work to do."

Link swallowed, fidgeting where he knelt. Wetting his lips, he asked, "B-but we'll figure it out, right? Before you leave, we'll figure all this out."

"Of course we — " Maz Koshia began, only to choke mid-sentence. He pitched forward, his hand flying to cover his mouth as he broke into another bout of wet, heavy coughing.

Everyone surged to his aid. Link took the monk by the shoulders, trying to stabilize him. Maz Koshia's lungs crushed with each wracking cough — they could all hear them shriveling, straining to take in air. Thankfully, the fit was brief; Maz Koshia managed to spit up a mouthful of Malice. But he couldn't grab a handkerchief in time. His hand took the brunt of the fit, his fingers dripping with Malice.

They all held still for a moment, Link, Symin, and Purah on tenterhooks as they waited for Maz Koshia to catch his breath. He reassured them, his voice gravelly, "I'm fine."

Link grimaced as he took in the sight of the monk's smoking fingers. "No, you're not, Maz… Argh…!" he grunted. Enraged by the sight of that poison, he found himself glaring at it, snarling to himself, "What even is this stuff?"

Just as when he woke up that morning, Link hadn't expected to receive an answer to his musings. He gave a jolt when the Sheikah Slate vibrated on his hip, calling out to him with a trill. Everyone's attention was jerked from Maz Koshia and to Link. Brow furrowing, Link tore the Sheikah Slate off his belt, bringing its screen to his face. What he read made his heart skip a beat.

A gift.

Link's spine stiffened. Not this again. Knowing it would respond, he asked it, breathless, "What?"

"What?!" Maz Koshia, Symin, and Purah all chimed in unison. Heads snapping up, they all crowded near the Sheikah Slate, three sets of bulging eyes finding the glyphs flashing across its screen.

A gift, the Slate repeated.

There was a brief lull as everyone digested what they had read.

Maz Koshia was the first to move. He swallowed a lump of Malice in his throat. "What in the name of Hylia…?!" he marveled.

He stretched out his hand to take the Slate, only to quickly retract it when the device began to give off a low buzzing sound. It was growling at him. Malice bubbled up from inside of it, oozing through its seams and boiling along its surface. Link, still holding onto it, watched its reaction with complete stupefaction. Goosebumps darted up his neck at the biting touch of its Malice as it caressed his fingers.

Maz Koshia leaned back, tucking his hand close to his chest. "...I suppose I should have expected that," he murmured.

Symin and Purah had yet to blink, their jaws hanging open. They peeled their gazes away from the Slate and to Link and Maz Koshia.

Purah choked, gesturing to the device. "E-excuse me, erm, when did this happen?!"

"And what exactly am I looking at?!" Symin added, inching away from the Slate.

Link and Maz Koshia exchanged a wild-eyed glance. Gathering his thoughts, Link explained everything to the best of his ability. "When I woke up in the Shrine, i-it was normal. Blue. But when I picked it up, I did something to it. Malice came out of my hands. I-I think I infected it…!"

Symin gave a wheezy chuckle. "Hah hah! No kidding!"

Purah began to spit out flabbergasted sentences, her brain tripping over itself to make sense of this bizarre revelation. "Infected or not, how is it communicating?! How is it listening?! Nothing like that was ever programmed into it! A-and was it — was it growling?! Like a dog?!"

Floored as they were already, the Slate continued to surprise them. It was definitely listening to their conversation. Following Purah's words, the device flashed with magenta light, giving off another sound that it shouldn't have been able to make. It was a quick, indignant snuff of air — a scoff. Everyone's gazes were wrenched to the Slate as a new set of glyphs flashed on its screen.

Excuse you, Purah. I am not a dog.

Purah's face flushed as white as her hair. "Oh my Goddess…!" she gasped, her hands covering her mouth.

Symin went weak in the knees, retreating a step. Maz Koshia suppressed a cough, his hand finding his throat. Link, however, stayed put, his gaze unwavering on the Slate. He had never seen this level of sentience in it before. It was so… alive. It could think, profess its own opinions, back-sass people. A machine shouldn't have been capable of any of that. No, there was something more going on with it. Something none of them had realized until that moment.

Link gripped the Slate a little tighter. "What are you?" he breathed.

The Slate seemed to smirk.

I thought you would never ask.

Link blinked, his hand shaking slightly. Eyes bugging, he brought the Slate closer to his face, reading its response.

I am a disgraced spirit from beyond, given a newfound purpose. I am a tool to serve my Master.

Everyone stiffened. A bead of sweat crawled down Link's neck. Timidly, he added, "Who is your Master, exactly?"

Perhaps Link was imagining it, but he could feel the Slate's eye hone in on him. Its gaze was intense, familiar… almost obsessed. As he beheld the Slate, Link recalled something the Yiga had told him back in Kakariko — the Slate needed him. It wanted him. His life, his breath, his blood. A zing of lightning darted into Link's fingertips at the thought.

You are of course, the Slate replied, giving a matter-of-fact chirp.

Link's blood chilled for some reason. He was whisked back to that night in Kakariko, again. When the Yiga had forced the Slate into his face, urging him to read its desperate message for him. It had called him its Master. That was all it cared about. Link.

He was too stunned to pose another question to it. Maz Koshia, however, was burning with morbid curiosity. He clambered to his knees, leaning close to the Sheikah Slate.

"And what is your purpose, spirit?"

To serve my Master in every way that I can.

Everyone froze for a moment until their eyes slowly rose to meet. Link and Maz Koshia exchanged a nearly eternal glance with each other, coming to a mutual query in their minds. The moment the question came to fruition, they both shuddered, the Malice within them writhing.

Link looked back to the Sheikah Slate.

"Can you help me control my Malice?" he asked it.

A brief pause. More Sheikah glyphs ran across its screen.

I am Malice.

Would you like to see?

---

Oh, snap! The plot thickens even MORE!

Okay, this chapter was SO MUCH FUN. I thoroughly enjoyed writing the "training" scene, including bits of Maz Koshia's boss fight from the Champions' Ballad DLC. I didn't include all his moves, though. We'll be seeing those soon, don't worry. Dang, what a great fight! Let's hope Link and the monk can work to figure things out! Taming such a beast won't be easy. But maybe someone can help it along?

As for the revelation at the end... It seems the Sheikah Slate has more up its sleeve than everyone thought! If you can guess who the Slate is, message me. I'll answer any questions you have (without spoiling anything, of course!). I had a lot more fun with the Slate than I thought I would. It's such an integral part of the game that I thought it deserved its own spotlight in this story.

As for Maz Koshia's ultimatum... we'll see where that lands our group of heroes. You'll just have to wait and see! Hopefully not a month this time!

Anyhoo, stay tuned for the next update! I'm not gonna lie, it'll be insane. I hope every reader, new and old, enjoys what's coming up. I know I'm beside myself with excitement about getting it written! Once again, thank you for your continued support. I hope I can continue to entertain you.

See you in the next chapter, friends!