Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to chapter 20 of Corrupted Hero! I know I always say this, but I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I think this chapter is going to be worth it, though. This one's crazy! Here, we will get some long-awaited answers, as well as a few revelations. I can't wait for you to read on!
Business-wise, I've come to realize that my schedule for this story will most likely be monthly or bi-monthly (depending on my workload). That seems to be the only way I can faithfully update. I'd love to do these bi-weekly, but with how complicated these are getting, I know I would run out of steam pretty quickly. That said, I look forward to seeing you every month. :) Stay tuned for more!
And before I go, I wanted to let you know that I've sprinkled some references to other Zelda games in this chapter. Can you spot them?
As always, I wanted to express my heartfelt thanks for your audience. Thank you for reading, commenting, supporting me, and brainstorming with me. I love each and every one of you and I am so excited to go on this journey with you. Read, and enjoy!
The spirit surged straight for Link, his breakneck speed kicking up the papers littering the floor. Despite his bulky frame, the spirit could levitate on a whim; his toes skimmed the floorboards as he shot across the lab in a second flat, his eye ablaze, chains swinging, a savage warcry ripping from his throat.
Link's heart plummeted into his stomach. He knew he had to move, but he never got the chance to. The spirit stormed up to greet him, towering over him in the crimson half-light. Without an ounce of mercy for his master, the spirit thrust his fist into Link's third eye with a nauseating crunch. Link's head snapped back, his neck grinding. The sheer force of the spirit's blow knocked him on his back onto the table. Link cried out against a jolt of pain spearing his skull, clutching his forehead as blood leaked out of his eye.
Maz Koshia, Purah, and Symin recoiled. The spirit moved with the speed and ferocity of a lightning strike. They had never seen anything like it. Disturbed as he was, a shock of adrenaline spurred Maz Koshia into action upon seeing the blood leaking between Link's fingers — at finally seeing the monstrosity responsible. The monk's teeth ground. He had to deal with this thing plaguing the Sheikah Slate, once and for all. It had long overstayed its welcome.
Veil igniting, the monk summoned a sword and dove for the spirit. "LEAVE HIM ALONE!" he shouted.
The spirit's head whipped toward Maz Koshia. His eye blared with stark yellow light. "I don't take orders from you!" he snarled.
As Maz Koshia swung at him, the spirit extended his palm. At the spirit's command, the monk was consumed by a golden light mid-lunge, his body completely locking up without his control. The spirit didn't even flinch as the monk's sword hovered mere inches from his pupil.
Link gaped, blinking gore out of his eyes. Purah and Symin choked. They had seen this before. The spirit was using the Sheikah Slate's Runes.
"Holy crap…!" Purah breathed.
With a spurt of laughter, the spirit reared back and plunged his foot into Maz Koshia's sternum. The monk should have been sent flying, but, strangely, he didn't move. At all. The spirit had suspended him in time. Everyone jumped when the light coating Maz Koshia flashed as massive kinetic energy built up against his body, raring to be released.
Purah and Symin knew what the spirit had done to the monk — it was nothing short of harrowing. Link, however, was woefully ignorant. He had no idea what was happening. His jaw dropped, his heart fluttering as he stared at Maz Koshia, totally immobilized.
"Maz?!" Link gasped. He sat up, scrambling to the monk's aid, only to freeze in his tracks when the spirit's hand clamped around his neck.
The spirit pinned Link to the table, his eye rolling. "Maz, Maz, Maz," he scoffed. "God, you don't know how sick and tired I am of hearing his name! You just love your little monk so much, don't you?" His eye shimmered with betrayal. Fuming, the spirit pounded Link against the table, his voice breaking as he cried, "Don't you?! You left me behind — for him?! For that crusty old bastard?!"
Link's blood shot with hot revile at the spirit's words, his eyes flashing. Fighting the spirit's grip, he cried, "Don't you dare talk about him like that! What did you do to him?!" But the spirit merely glowered into him. Link's brow twisted. He clawed at the spirit's arm, spitting, "If you hurt him I swear I'll — !"
Unphased by Link's protests, the spirit forced him down and dug his thumb into his throat, silencing him. The spirit shuddered, leaning in closer to Link. "What I did to him is nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you," he growled. "Oh, but don't worry, Master. I won't kill you. He'd have my head for that. Besides," he mused, tracing his eye along Link's bone mask. "I'd hate to waste such a handsome face."
Something foul stirred inside Link at the spirit's smug threats. Teeth baring, he struggled, kicking with all his might at the spirit's torso in efforts to shake him off. But the spirit held him fast, his armor taking the brunt of Link's blows — he only succeeded in humoring the apparition.
"Ooh, that tickles," the spirit crooned.
Link's stomach dropped as the spirit proceeded to haul him above his head like he was nothing. Link gurgled and thrashed, dangling at his mercy. Whirling on his heel, the spirit pitched Link into the floor as easily as if he were a ball. Link cracked the back of his head against the edge of the raised stage, blacking out for a moment. When he came to, he found the spirit's burning gaze locked onto him, his voice muffled against the ringing in his ears.
"What did your precious monk say about me, Master?" the spirit began. "What lies did he fill your head with? Did he tell you I'm no good for you? That you shouldn't trust me?" His fists rolled, his eye smoldering. "...That you don't need me? That's rich. Y'know, for all his wisdom, that monk's about as ignorant as he is ancient!" He laid a hand on his chest, urging Link, "Don't let him deceive you, Master. You need me more than you realize."
Link's insides squirmed at the spirit's words. He grimaced, his blood flushing with panic for some reason. He shook his head wildly. "No! No, I'm not listening to you!" he cried, shambling away on his elbows. "Get away from me!"
The spirit took his chin back, stunned by his master's response. With a snarl, he stomped toward Link, shaking his head. "I won't let him do this, Master," he promised. "I won't let him come between us. You need me. And I'm going to prove it to you."
Link scrambled back as fast as his swimming head would allow, his chest tight with fear as the spirit came at him. He was nothing short of a nightmare, with his crazed, blood-red eye and sharpened fangs, his dark, powerful frame, the chains whipping from his shackles. Link shuddered to comprehend that he had been carrying this thing with him since he had risen — that he had been inside his mind, whispering to him. It made his blood curdle.
And he was defenseless in the spirit's shadow. How was he going to stand up to this thing? The spirit completely dwarfed him in size, and his strength and armor were formidable enough even without the Runes at his disposal.
Link had his Malice, sure, but he could barely focus, let alone coax his Malice out on a whim. His past uses of it were flukes, he knew that. He'd only deliberately brought it out when facing the Guardian earlier — with the spirit's help. But the spirit was beyond cooperation by that point. What could Link do to bring his Malice out now? He had no idea. He couldn't even think.
But as he retreated, he suddenly remembered the sword Maz Koshia had given him to train with. It was still on his belt. It was all he had.
Link reached for the ancient sword, but his reflexes were sluggish. The spirit's eye immediately flew to the weapon, blazing with shock. Before Link could take it off his belt, the spirit caught up to him and stomped on his fingers. Link's subsequent yelp was cut short when the spirit slammed his foot onto his chest. Link's lungs heaved, his breath wheezing out of him. His hand flew to the spirit's ankle as he pressed his weight against him. Despite being a spirit, he was solid as stone; Link's sternum creaked beneath his weight.
"What exactly were you planning on doing?" the spirit gawked. "I don't believe this! How did he manage to corrupt you so badly?!" Exasperated, he threw his hands up, shouting, "You know what?! Fine! Have it your way! Listen to your monk. Eat up every little thing he says — he's a genius. Ignore me, attack me, leave me behind, why don't you? After all, what have I ever done for YOU?!"
The spirit pounded his heel into Link's third eye, dashing his head against the floor. Darkness spotted Link's vision, his hearing dipping out. The spirit barely gave Link time to recover before he continued his beatings, screaming, "All I ever did, I did for YOU!" He kicked Link's eye in again, his scalp splitting against the floor. Blood trickled down Link's neck.
But the spirit didn't care. He had to show him the error in his ways. He continued, wailing, "I guided you! I comforted you! I inspired you! The least you could do is show a little GRATITUDE! God, what do I have to do to get it through your THICK SKULL?!"
The spirit drove his foot again and again into Link's third eye till his face and his hair were sopping with blood. Link's brain sloshed in his skull. He saw double. A raspy groan slithered out of him as he lay limp on the floor, his head lolling.
Pausing his rampage, the spirit loomed above Link for a moment, breathing heavily. But upon beholding his bloodied master beneath his feet, the spirit eventually sighed. Stepping off of Link, he knelt, gently taking him by the jaw, locking their gazes. Link braced for another round, but to his shock, the spirit's explosive emotional state completely turned on a dime. He became submissive, doting. Apologetic, even.
He implored Link, his voice heavy with regret, "I take no pride in this, Master. I live to serve you. You just don't understand that yet. But you will." He brushed his thumb along Link's jawline, continuing, "Know that I'm doing this for you, Master. You rescued me from the depths of my despair — and for that, I worship you."
Link's battered face twisted. "You…" he grunted, blood bubbling on his lips. "...h-have a funny way of showing it."
The spirit's fangs glinted with a smile. "You'll see things my way." He tapped his finger on the tip of Link's nose, cooing, "Soon."
Link flinched at his touch. "Go to hell," he hissed.
The spirit stiffened, but ultimately shrugged it off. "Been there, done that," he replied. He then brought his hands up, cupping Link's head and drilling his thumbnails into his third eye. Link's body tensed; he gave a guttural cry as sharp pain spliced through his face.
"But if you don't cooperate with me… if you dare cast me aside again..." the spirit warned. "Then I will show you firsthand the torture I have endured. I'll make you wish you had never reincarnated, Link."
A cold shudder crawled down Link's neck at the familiar way in which the spirit said his name — like he had whispered it thousands of times. But even if his brain hadn't been beaten to pulp, Link couldn't fathom what the spirit was talking about. Reincarnation? His torture? Nothing he was saying made sense. All Link could give in response was a gritty grunt.
Satisfied, the spirit released his grip on Link, letting him flop to the floorboards. He laid there, gasping through bloody, bared teeth against the throbbing of his head and his churning stomach.
Link swallowed the bitter blood and bile pooling in his mouth. "You're a monster," he breathed.
The spirit chuckled, flattered. "And unlike you, I embrace it." Reaching up, he began to clean blood off of Link's bone mask. Link slapped his hand away, but the spirit snatched him by the wrist, continuing, "But we'll work on that. We are bound together, Master." He then laid his hand over Link's heart, stamping a bloody handprint on his tunic. Something inside Link writhed at his touch.
The spirit's eye flashed in-sync with Link's pulse. "Bound until the very end," he murmured.
The lab fell quiet for a brief moment when, by the table, time finally caught up with Maz Koshia. Everyone jumped against an awful chorus of sounds that raked at the air as the light consuming the monk's body dispelled. Time shifted back into place with a temporal shatter. Several of Maz Koshia's ribs spontaneously snapped, his breath punching out of his lungs. The monk was flung across the room and into a bookshelf against the wall with a mighty crash.
Through his delirium, Link's attention was wrenched to where Maz Koshia had fallen. Half-buried in books and shelf fragments, the monk broke into a coughing fit, clawing for air.
Link's heavy eyelids fluttered, his breath catching. "Maz!" he shouted.
The monk's head shot up. Settling his lungs, he blinked back into lucidity, his gaze flying to Link. He recoiled at the gore slathering Link's face, at the spirit crouched above him. While suspended in time, the monk's senses had been temporarily stifled; he hadn't seen or heard anything of Link and the spirit's exchange.
Maz Koshia's brows knit together. "Get away from him…!" he said, his voice rough. He attempted to get to his feet, only for his lungs to wither. Grunting, he sank to the floor, his hand flying to his chest; his ribs were buckled and uneven, his breath little more than a wheeze.
Link's stomach flushed with panic. He tried again to rise to help the monk, but the spirit held him down. The spirit jerked his head toward Maz Koshia. With a baffled chuckle, he shook his head, reeling with envy.
"I honestly don't comprehend what you see in him," he marveled to Link. "I've done more for you than he could ever dream of!"
Link writhed, spitting, "I don't care! Let me go!"
The spirit's eye flashed. He seized a handful of Link's hair and gave him a violent shake, warning, "I'd watch your tone, Master. I'm the reason you even have breath in your lungs to say such things."
Link blinked, the spirit's words catching him off-guard. "W-what?!" he gasped.
"Spirit!" Maz Koshia shouted. Their heads flew toward him. He had hauled himself to his feet, leaning against a nearby desk for support. Catching his breath, he aimed his sword at the spirit. "You heard him — let him go. I am the object of your wrath. Not Link. You and I both know that."
The spirit paused before giving a snort. "And here I thought we'd never agree on anything." Turning his head, he glowered into the blood dripping down Link's face, his voice oozing with hatred as he accused, "Look what you've done, monk. This is all your fault. It didn't have to come to this."
The monk's lip curled. "Funny, I was about to say the same. We wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for you."
The spirit whirled on him. "I was here first! Things were perfect until you came along." He aimed a finger at Maz Koshia. "You…! You've been leading my master away from me ever since." With a manic chuckle, the spirit rambled on, "I knew this would happen — do you think I'm stupid?! I've been watching you. All of you! You're plotting against me. Against us. And I won't stand for it."
"Let him go," the monk ordered, taking a few steps forward. "I won't ask you again."
"Why, so you can take him for yourself? I don't think so," the spirit replied. He pulled Link up and admired him, adding, "I sacrificed everything for him. I will never let him go. He's mine."
Maz Koshia's face twisted with revulsion at the spirit's obsession for Link. It was as if the spirit's entire existence revolved around him. The monk knew he had to separate them. Only it wouldn't be as easy as throwing aside the Sheikah Slate this time.
But something the spirit said nagged at him. Sacrifice. Maz Koshia's eyes tightened as he inspected the spirit. "And what exactly have you sacrificed, pray tell?" he asked. "You seem to be lacking a few things — namely sanity."
The spirit's eye glazed over as he gazed upon Link. He barely registered the monk's insult. "I gave him everything," he whispered. "My freedom. My identity. My soul. Everything… for him."
Both Link and Maz Koshia shuddered at that.
"And yet…" The spirit trailed off, his fingers curling into fists. He still had one hand tangled in Link's hair. Link winced, clutching his scalp. "...He chose you," the spirit breathed. His voice took on a feral edge when he asked, "Why? What have you done for him that I haven't?!"
"I'm not beating him into the floorboards," Maz Koshia groused.
"Oh, but you certainly did your fair share back in the Shrine, didn't you?!" the spirit snarled, twisting to face the monk. Maz Koshia took his chin back, gripping his sword tighter. Eye alight, the spirit continued, "You know exactly what you did — when your beloved Shrine was ruined, who did you blame?! Who did you lay your hands on?!" He bashed Link's head against the floor, screaming, "WHO WAS IT, MAZ KOSHIA?!"
The eye on the monk's veil caught fire. With a roar, he stomped his foot, stabbing his sword toward the spirit. "THAT'S ENOUGH! I'm going to lay my hands on YOU if you don't SHUT UP and BACK OFF! LET HIM GO, NOW!"
Maz Koshia's voice shook the walls, chilling everyone's spines — including the spirit's. But that didn't stop him from standing up to the monk. If anything, the monk's raised voice only whet his appetite.
Releasing Link, the spirit grinned and jumped to his feet, shaking with anticipation. "Ooh, I'm dying to see this!" he challenged. "You wanna go at it, old man? Huh? Do you?!"
Grinding his jaw, Maz Koshia brandished his sword, inviting, "Do your worst."
With an unhinged cackle, the spirit threw himself at Maz Koshia. The monk backed up, sword at the ready, as the spirit proceeded to summon a weapon of his own. It was a long spear, crowned with a trio of steel blades, a chunk of amber inlaid into its shaft. As the spirit thrust it toward him, Maz Koshia brought up his sword to catch it, taking in the weapon with a notion of recollection. He had seen this spear somewhere before.
But he couldn't pause to think it over. Not with the spirit advancing on him. The two traded blows, clanging their weapons against the other, skirting about the lab. The spirit's attacks were frenzied, yet methodical — he specifically aimed for Maz Koshia's ribcage, his neck. He remembered the monk's weaknesses, watching them come to light through the Sheikah Slate. With the monk consuming his attention, the spirit's own rage manipulated the Malice coating his throat. Maz Koshia could feel it slithering inside him.
As they struggled, Maz Koshia endeavored to keep his feet and his breath steady. He still walked with some difficulty, his lungs straining against his newly-broken ribs, all while the poison in his throat thickened. But the more the monk dodged and blocked the spirit's attacks and swung his sword, the more his chest began to twinge with pain that spread into his shoulder. Before long, he was wheezing, his movements slowing down. The spirit noticed this with delight; his strength and stamina were fueled solely by his all-consuming envy.
Behind them, Link shot upright, his body rattling. He knew what was happening, but he could scarcely see exactly what was going on. His blurry vision shook with every forehead-splitting pound of his head. In spite of the beating he had taken, he tried to get to his feet to help Maz Koshia.
But he collapsed. His head rushed, his stomach wringing out. Link heaved, but somehow managing to hold down the bile burning in his gut. As Maz Koshia and the spirit dueled, Purah and Symin seized their chance to rendezvous with Link. They crawled from the far corner and under the table to him. Symin grabbed him by the shoulder. Link, half-registering they were even there, tried to stand again, but Symin tugged him back down.
"What do you think you're doing?!" Symin began. "You're a mess, Link, you can't — "
Link shook his head, interrupting him. "N-no, no, we have to help!"
"What are we gonna do?!" Purah panicked. "We can't fight that thing!"
"We have to," Link repeated, his vision swimming with the red smudge of the spirit's hair as it danced around the blue blur of Maz Koshia's sword. "We have to — "
But a sudden spurt of wet coughing cut him off. Their gazes flew to Maz Koshia as he staggered, one hand grasping his throat, while the other flailed his sword to defend himself. He hit the wall, his body shuddering from his heavy coughs. Glowing droplets of Malice sprayed out of his mouth. Link, Symin, and Purah gasped.
The spirit leaned back, lapping up the sight of the monk struggling to breathe. "Aww, Maz, you don't look so good," he cooed. "I've got just the thing for that!"
He darted forward, their weapons locking. Snickering, he jabbed his knee into Maz Koshia's ribcage. His bones gritted together, Malice spurting from his mouth. As the monk doubled over, the spirit grabbed him by the neck and broke into a run, dragging him along the wall before throwing him into a cabinet. The cabinet rocked dangerously above Maz Koshia. He wilted to the floor, gagging on the Malice clogging his throat.
"No!" Link cried, scrambling to his hands and knees.
But he stopped dead, mystified by the spirit as he levitated back to the opposite wall, his eye ablaze with bloodlust. He gripped his spear with both hands, focusing his energy. The semi-darkness of the lab scattered as a scintillating golden light gathered around the tip of the spirit's spear. The light sparked and crackled, superheating the air around it. Flourishing his weapon, the spirit lobbed the light at Maz Koshia.
"MAZ, LOOK OUT!" Link screamed.
The monk's head snapped up. Suppressing a cough, he swung his sword against the oncoming ball of light, deflecting it toward the spirit. The spirit couldn't help but grin as the light sailed toward him. He had forgotten what this felt like. Hungry for more, the spirit advanced on Maz Koshia, rebounding the light back to him. Maz Koshia returned it. Back and forth they went, exchanging the ball of light in a game of Dead Man's Volley.
With each trade, however, the spirit gained ground on Maz Koshia, their volleys growing faster and faster. Every swing was torture on Maz Koshia's crushed ribcage. He struggled to keep up. His injuries and the Malice in his throat were wearing him down. Even through his blurred vision, Link knew the monk was faltering.
He had to do something. Link hobbled to his feet despite Symin's objections and sprinted headlong toward the spirit, tackling his legs from behind. The spirit crashed to his hands and knees. He growled at his master's interference; he tried to shake Link off, but Link held on. When Maz Koshia returned his volley, the spirit was too preoccupied with Link to deflect it. He turned his head just in time for the light to careen straight into his face.
Jolts of scalding energy tore through the spirit's body — he spasmed, giving a grunt and crumbling to the floor. Pulling back, Link and Maz Koshia watched him twitch, amazed. For a moment, it seemed as though they had bested him. But their victory was short-lived. The spirit suddenly raised his head, soldiering through the pain. He was no stranger to it.
He chuckled. "Cute, boys, but unoriginal. You're gonna have to try harder than that!"
Shooting back into action, the spirit pivoted, launching his elbow into Link's forehead. Link keeled back, hitting the floor in a heap. Gasping, Maz Koshia staggered to his feet, sword drawn. But the spirit was faster. He rose from the floor and kicked Link across the lab, sending him tumbling into the table. The Sheikah Slate clattered to the floor, catching Purah's eye.
Link, stunned and disoriented where he lay, had no chance of evading what was coming. The spirit stormed forward and drove his spear into Link's knee and twisted it, slicing clean through tendon and bone. Link convulsed, his spine arching — a bloody howl tore out of him, ravaging his throat raw.
"You brought this on yourself, Master," the spirit mourned.
Maz Koshia's lungs pulverized with horror. He hastened his shamble toward the spirit, teeth bared, intent on ripping him apart. As the spirit shook his head, irritated by Link's actions, Maz Koshia came up behind him and shoved him over, plunging his sword between the gaps of his armor on his back, impaling him. The monk channeled all his energy into the blade, overloading it with a surge of electricity that boiled the spirit's shadowy body into soup. Pieces of his armor flung off of him like shrapnel. Symin threw himself in front of Purah, shielding her.
The spirit stumbled forward, energy ravaging his body, making him seize. Maz Koshia pushed the sword in deeper and staggered a few steps back. His strength was exhausted. He sunk to his knees, breathing heavily, his gaze flicking to Link where he lay, hot tears streaming down his face. It made his jaw grind.
The monk turned his attention back to the spirit. He watched as the spirit hovered his shaking hands around the Sheikah blade protruding out of his chest. Gruesome as the wound was, a sudden smile caught his jaw. Grimacing slightly, he grabbed the sword by its blade and yanked it through his body, taking it for himself. Ignoring the sizzling of his hand, the spirit took the sword by the hilt and turned to face Maz Koshia. The monk froze, his eyes widening as he watched the spirit's wound glow with magenta light and seal up.
No one but Purah noticed the Sheikah Slate light up in tandem with the spirit's wound as it healed.
Maz Koshia swallowed a lump of Malice in his throat. "That's interesting…" he murmured.
The spirit sneered. "Like my little party trick? I could do this all night," he replied. Cocking his head, he continued, "Gotta hand it to you — you're tougher than I give you credit for. But you're looking tired, Maz. Allow me to put you to bed..." He prowled toward Maz Koshia, his sword aimed at his forehead.
Maz Koshia eased himself to his feet, ready to go another round. But as he made motions to summon another weapon, the spirit's eye flashed a vibrant shade of magenta, cutting off his efforts. The monk gave a sudden retch, his hands flying to his throat. He tore off his veil as a flood of Malice gushed out of his mouth and nose, sending him to his knees.
Oblivious to what was happening, Link pinched his eyes shut as he writhed on the floor, one hand gripping his blood-soaked knee. Purah and Symin, meanwhile, had their eyes riveted to the scene before them. They'd watched the spirit's wound heal with disturbed awe. But as she beheld it, a thought dawned on Purah. Her eyes flew from the spirit's nonexistent wound to the Sheikah Slate, her thoughts connecting.
The spirit held his blade inches from Maz Koshia's forehead. "You have been a thorn in my side for far too long, monk," the spirit growled. "I rue the day we met. And I am going to relish the day you finally die."
Gaining some control over himself, Maz Koshia spit at the spirit's feet, giving a rough chuckle. "And every time you think of me," he breathed, "you will remember me as I was..." He raised his head, jeering, "...your Master's favorite."
The spirit seethed at that, gripping his sword tighter. He would enjoy this. "Goodbye, Maz Koshia," he grinned.
Looking on with panic, Purah flew into action. She grabbed the Sheikah Slate and crawled over to Link, shaking him. He turned to her, his face twisted with agony.
"The Slate, Link!" Purah hissed into his ear. She thrust the device into his hand. "He's connected to it! Do something! Anything!"
Link's gaze rested on the device for a moment before flying to the spirit as he reared his sword back. An idea pierced the haze in Link's mind. He snatched the sword off his belt and energized it, sitting bolt upright.
"HEY!" Link shouted.
The spirit paused mid-swing, lured by his master's voice. He twisted his head in Link's direction, stopping cold when he saw Link's blade hovering above the Sheikah Slate. Both Maz Koshia and the spirit gave a start.
The spirit threw his hand out. "DON'T — !"
Link plunged his sword into the Sheikah Slate's screen. The plasma blade pierced it as easily as if it were paper. Sparks and Malice jetted out of it like a fountain, an ear-splitting shriek rending the air — everyone's hands clamped around their ears.
Both Link and the spirit recoiled as if they had been stabbed in the gut. The spirit's eye fractured — he gave a strangled scream, his hands flying to what remained of his face. Dropping his weapon, he crumbled to his knees, doubling over and clutching his eye. Malice spilled through his fingers. As he twitched on the floor, the spirit dragged his head up, gaping at the Sheikah Slate. Its lights stuttered, dousing them all in darkness for a moment — the spirit's body faded into nothing for a split second.
He sucked in a gasp. "W-what have you done?!" the spirit gawked. "What have you done?!"
No one answered him. All they could do was stare at him, speechless. After absolutely terrorizing everyone in the room, it was astonishing seeing the spirit reduced to nothing so suddenly. One moment, he had been an unstoppable force of revenge and destruction. But not then. Now, he was wounded. Weakened. All because Link had damaged the Sheikah Slate, severing his connection to it. As if on cue, the glowing chains joining the spirit's shackles flickered and dissolved into the shadows, making him whimper.
"M-my… tether…!" he cried, dragging himself toward the Sheikah Slate. But he didn't make it far before his body flickered again, sending him to the floor.
The lab fell quiet for a moment, the only sound the spirit's panicked breath. Now that they weren't at war with each other, Maz Koshia drank in the spirit as if seeing him for the first time. His eyes devoured every detail, cementing him in his mind. His gaze trailed from the spirit's shuddering frame and to his spear jutting out of Link's knee. Maz Koshia's eyes widened, his mind beginning to race.
The spirit's vaguely-familiar weapon, his shattered psyche, his red hair, his battle style, his obsessive loyalty... The monk abruptly realized that he knew him. He had seen him before, somewhere in the visions of the past the Goddess had blessed him with. But he hadn't recognized him until that moment. He was… different. Time and torture had not been kind to this spirit. He was a broken shell of his former self.
But why was he here, within the Slate? Why did he look like this? What happened to his face —
Maz Koshia's eyes had wandered from the spirit, resting on Link. A horrific realization struck him. His breath rushed out of his lungs; his hand flew to cover his mouth, his mind reeling.
He breathed, inspecting the spirit, "It's you…!"
There was a brief pause before Symin asked, "What?"
Gathering his thoughts, Maz Koshia continued to the spirit, his breath shallow, "I know you…"
The spirit shuddered, his eye glued to the floor. "You don't know me," he grumbled.
"I-I do… I know you..." Maz Koshia repeated, straightening. He held his chest, his lungs aching. Cocking his head, he continued, getting to his feet, "I know all about you…" The monk looked between the Sheikah Slate and the spirit. A smirk crept onto his lips. He snorted. "For all your tough talk, spirit…" he said. "You're still worthless."
The spirit's body locked up. "...What did you say?" he gasped.
"You heard me. You're worthless," the monk spat.
The spirit recoiled as if he'd been kicked. "Sh-shut up, Maz," he grunted, his breath shaky.
Maz Koshia's eyes flashed. He had struck a nerve. "No. No, I don't think I will," he replied. "You are worthless, aren't you?" The spirit cringed again. Spurred by his reaction, Maz Koshia went on, raw enmity dripping from every word, "Without the Slate, you're worthless. Without Link, you're worthless. You need them. Desperately. You depend on them because you're too weak to stand on your own two feet and you know it. You — are — worthless."
The spirit slammed his fists against the floor. "Stop calling me that!" he hissed.
"And why shouldn't I?" Maz Koshia fired back. "It was the name your creator gave you before he banished you. All because you couldn't kill a hero adrift in time…" He shook his head. "You're pathetic. You're worthless." The monk padded forward, prodding, "Isn't that right, Phantom Ganon?"
The spirit twitched, his body flickering again. Stiff silence settled upon the lab for a moment before he ultimately chuckled, his voice hoarse, "...Am I that transparent?"
Link, Purah, and Symin all gaped at the spirit — at how exposed he suddenly was. The monk had stunned them with his revelations. Link's blood chilled upon finally learning the apparition's name. Phantom Ganon. It wasn't a familiar name, but one that nevertheless slithered down his neck like a snake.
Maz Koshia continued to muse aloud, "You had me for a while, I'll admit. You kept your identity well hidden." He held his forehead, marveling, "How did I not see this before…? You aren't the same ghost I've seen in my visions. You've changed."
"At least I'm not a shriveled old corpse," Phantom Ganon mocked.
Maz Koshia pursed his lips, ignoring his insult. "No, but you're deformed. Deranged. What's happened to you?"
"Aww, suddenly so concerned for my welfare? Aren't you sweet," Phantom Ganon sneered. He dragged his head toward Maz Koshia, growling, "Wouldn't you like to know?"
Maz Koshia went stiff for a moment, his breath rattling as he took in the shredded remains of the spirit's face. Hanging his head, he brought his gaze over to Link, his expression sombering. "Tell me, Phantom," he breathed. "...Why is Link wearing your face?"
The room fell morbidly quiet. The heavy air seemed to sour. Link's heart gave a resounding thud at Maz Koshia's words. He was too consumed by his own existential horror to notice Purah and Symin give him grim, wide-eyed stares. He could suddenly feel the bone mask encircling his face — like it didn't belong there.
Link unconsciously brought up a shaking hand, his fingertips caressing the teeth lining his mask. His gaze then fell on Phantom Ganon's bony, fang-laced jaw. In the heat of the spirit's attack, Link hadn't had time to fully internalize it, but now that he was looking at it, he realized that his mask and the spirit's jaw were two parts of one whole.
The spirit's missing face...?
Phantom Ganon grinned. "I gave it to him," he whispered. Everyone stiffened. "My own personal touch to this… happy accident. Out of all of His fallen, I was chosen to assist him." He looked up to Link, making him recoil. "But if I was to accompany him, I refused to look at his old face." He scowled. "Reminds me too much of someone I used to know."
"Your face?!" Link finally croaked, eyes widening. He gestured to his bone mask. "This is your face?!"
Phantom Ganon tilted his head, purring, "Like it, don't you?"
Link's heart stopped. His horror melted away as fast as it came on; his brows shot together, his breath blasting out of his mouth in a black cloud at the disgusting truth behind his new, darkened form. Link's mind bled with the terror he had stricken into the people he had met, the fearful treatment he had received. The self-hatred he had wallowed in.
Indeed, the vast majority of his demonization had been solely because of his face. A face that wasn't even his to begin with. One that he had loathed since the moment he laid his three glowing eyes on it in the ruined church. One that had been so charitably given to him by this spirit.
Link's torrent of emotions finally came to an ugly head. "YOU DID THIS TO ME!" Link roared, much to the thrill of Phantom Ganon. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"
Phantom Ganon beamed with pride as he watched Link's shock fester, mutating into an unholy outrage. It surged into his blood like a flood of acid. Link didn't fight it when his Malice roiled to a fever pitch within him; it bulldozed through his body before bursting out of his shoulders and spreading along his arms.
Link tried to leap up to tackle Phantom Ganon and beat him into oblivion. But in his blind frenzy, he completely forgot about the spear impaling his leg. Link's knee split open with his movements, paralyzing pain shocking through his body. Not even the adrenaline pumping through his veins could mask it. He slumped to the floor, crying out and gripping his gushing, shredded knee. Purah and Symin flew to help, but they hesitated to touch him, wary of his Malice.
Phantom Ganon snickered at his master's efforts. Maz Koshia shot him a disturbed glance before he looked to Link, entreating him, "Stay down, Link. He's finished." The monk snarled at Phantom Ganon, jabbing a finger at him, "You — we don't need you. Link doesn't need you. Leave us, now — crawl back to the gap between dimensions where you belong."
Phantom Ganon's hands curled into fists. "...Is that what you think?" he chuckled. "That I'm finished? You're wrong. My place is here… with my Master…"
He looked to Link, urging him, "I already told you: I live to serve you, and I always will. I've sacrificed everything for you. My life. My face. My everything." He shakily hauled himself to his hands and knees. "We need each other; our existences are fragile. We both need someone — something — to cling to, or we won't survive." His eye flashed in-sync with Link's pulse again. Link's heart fluttered. Sweat crawled down his neck.
Phantom Ganon continued, "We provide for each other. So long as you have breath in your lungs and blood in your veins, I will be nourished, and in turn, I will continue to feed you the life you lost." He shrugged. "Time to face facts, Link — were it not for me, you would have rotted in that crypt. I am your salvation, just as you are mine."
Link shuddered beneath his gaze, his blood going sour. Turning his head, Phantom Ganon sneered at Maz Koshia, "I'm not going anywhere. You want me gone? Go ahead. Kill your hero. We are bound together."
Maz Koshia's hands rolled into fists, his teeth baring. His skeleton rattled with caustic fury. "What kind of sabotage — ?!" he spat. With a roar, he hissed, "Bastard! You bloodsucking PARASITE!"
Phantom Ganon grinned, feigning a cringe. "Oof, such nasty words! You're breaking my heart over here…" He shrugged. "But you're absolutely right."
As Maz Koshia fumed, Phantom Ganon then brought his eye to the Sheikah Slate, where it lay, sparking, in a puddle of Malice. He twitched, his body becoming transparent for a moment. He hung his head, only then registering that his chains were gone.
Phantom Ganon continued, his voice grim, "I need that Slate. We both do." He dragged his gaze back to Maz Koshia, demanding, "And you're going to fix it."
The monk reeled with disgust. His eyes tightened. "I-I beg your pardon?! Why would I ever cater to you?! What if I refuse?"
A heavy pause.
A fiendish light took Phantom Ganon's eye. It made Maz Koshia's skin crawl. He leaned back slightly.
"Then I'll make you do it," Phantom Ganon growled.
The spirit rocketed to his feet and charged toward Maz Koshia, his shadowy body sublimating into a billowing mass of darkness. From where he stood near the corner, Maz Koshia had nowhere to go to evade him. The monk only had time to raise his sword before Phantom Ganon barreled into his body, knocking him flat on his back. The monk immediately gave a guttural grunt, convulsing. He writhed on the floor, wrestling against Phantom Ganon as he forced his way inside him.
Link's heart crushed with mortal terror as he watched the monk writhe on the floor. "Maz?!" he cried.
Link, Purah, and Symin exchanged a split-second glance. Purah threw her arms toward the monk, crying, "Help him!"
Breaking out in a sweat, Symin obeyed, rushing for the monk. Link tried to follow his suit, but both Purah and the spear in his knee held him back. They all stared, horrified, as Maz Koshia thrashed, howling. Everyone recoiled, their faces draining, when he twisted his head to the side, heaving up a mouthful of Malice.
Symin knelt by the monk, shivering with panic. He had no idea what to do. There was nothing he could do. He reached for him, hoping to do something, but Maz Koshia's hand shot out and shoved him away. Symin hit the floor on his backside, gaping.
"S-s-stay back!" Maz Koshia forced out. "I — !"
A sudden, heavy crack echoed from Maz Koshia, cutting him off — he sucked in a gasp. Then, as if someone flipped a switch, the monk fell limp. He released a long, agonized sigh.
Nobody moved for an intense, eternal moment. Finally, Link whispered, his voice shattering the suffocating silence.
"...Maz?!"
The monk didn't reply.
Link shuddered. "Maz Koshia?!" Link repeated, his voice breaking. "Maz?!"
Everyone gaped when the monk eventually proceeded to slowly sit himself up with a grunt, hanging his head so that his hat concealed his face. He held his warped sternum with one hand, the other digging his fingernails into the floor. He breathed deeply, heavily, as if burdened with something. Only he could hear the caustic demands hissing inside his skull.
"Curse you, Phantom Ganon…!" he growled under his breath. He recoiled as if he'd been shouted at. "Don't get comfortable, now..."
"Maz?!" Link cried, giving a start.
Maz Koshia held up a shaking hand to dismiss everyone's worries — not that they were assuaged. Not after what they'd just watched. "I'm fine," he said, endeavoring to stay calm.
"What?!" Link, Purah, and Symin all chorused, their faces contorting. They broke into hysterics, talking over each other, their voices strained.
But Maz Koshia shook his head, brushing them off. The lab fell quiet again before the monk murmured, "Not now. Link first. It's what he wants."
Link choked on a lump of terror that had formed in his throat, his spine crawling. He knew who Maz Koshia meant, but he could barely stomach it. His gut roiled, making him gag.
Carefully, the monk got to his feet, still holding his chest. He strode across the lab, twitching every so often, his face angled toward the floor. Everyone watched him in transfixed horror. When he finally reached Link, he knelt, pausing for a moment, keeping his face hidden. Purah and Link gaped at him.
"Maz!" Link wheezed, reaching out and leaning toward him. "Maz, is he — "
"Stay down, Link. It's all right," Maz Koshia said gently, laying a hand on Link's chest and easing him to his back.
Link didn't mean to ignore him, but he couldn't help himself. He was so saturated with fear and anxiety that his limbs jittered, his head swilling with bilious heat. He sat up, his words flying out of him a mile a minute, "Maz — w-what's going on — i-is he — ?!"
Maz Koshia's hand knotted in Link's tunic, cutting him off. He sighed. "He's here, Link," the monk said, his voice monotone. He raised his head, looking Link in the eye. His face was ashen, emotionless. His left eye, normally aglow with turquoise light, now burned crimson, Malice leaking out of his eye socket.
"...He's inside," the monk grunted.
Link's eyes widened. His stomach instantly sullied with a vile mix of loathing and white-hot rage. He felt Phantom Ganon's eye leering at him through Maz Koshia. It made his blood boil. His Malice bubbled and pulsated on his arms. Shaking violently, Link lunged at the monk without thinking, roaring, "You leave him alone, Phantom! You leave him alone RIGHT NOW!"
Maz Koshia winced as Phantom Ganon clamored inside him. Weathering it, the monk tightened his grip on Link's tunic and held him steady, taking him firmly by the cheek. His touch sent a chill across Link's skin, calming him however slightly.
"Easy, Link, easy!" Maz Koshia began. He scowled, both of his eyes smoldering. "I don't like this any more than you do. But it won't be permanent, I promise."
"What?!" Link wheezed.
The monk shook his head. "He hates me as it is — he isn't happy to be sharing a body with me. But it's only until the Slate is fixed." His expression softened, whereas Link's only sank. "I'll be all right, Link," he insisted. "He won't do anything to me… unless I disobey. He promised me that."
Purah, her eyes as wide as dinner plates, scoffed, "Like we can trust anything he says! Maz, are you crazy?!"
The monk's shoulders fell. "Believe me, Director, I would rather die than become a means to an end for this psychopath." As soon as he said it, he flinched, his breath catching. Releasing a sigh, Maz Koshia continued, "But... Phantom Ganon is right. He needs the Sheikah Slate to anchor himself to this world. And Link needs it, too. Without it, he cannot hope to reclaim the Divine Beasts, let alone enter them." He grimaced, looking to Link. "You… probably shouldn't have stabbed it…"
It only then dawned on Link just how reckless he had been. In the thick of things, he hadn't even considered the consequences of destroying the ancient device. And the more he thought on it, the more he realized that, by stabbing the Slate, he had inadvertently given Phantom Ganon the freedom he needed to possess Maz Koshia.
This was all his fault. As usual.
Choking, Link held up the Sheikah Slate, staring, horrified, into the gaping hole melted into its screen. "No…! No, no, no…! What have I done? This is all my fault…! All my..." he wheezed, trailing off. His panic made his battered skull flush. Link's head lolled in Maz Koshia's grip, his vision dimming for a moment.
The monk held him steady, cradling his head. "Careful, now. It's all right, Link. Don't worry about it. We can fix this." He frowned, his eyes scouring Link's bloodied face. "...You're lightheaded, nauseous? Blurry vision?"
Link nodded, his head heavy.
Maz Koshia's lips pursed. "No doubt you're concussed… He really did a number on you. Some way to treat your master…" Stiffening for a moment, he patted Link's cheek, reassuring him, "You'll be fine. Here, give me your hand." The monk slipped the Sheikah Slate from Link's grasp, setting it down. Purah and Symin gathered in close, however warily, ready to assist.
Link raised a Malice-slathered hand. Maz Koshia took it, ignoring the subsequent smoking of his fingers. He brought Link's Malice to his third eye, cupping his palm around it and holding it there. As if it knew that Link was injured, his Malice began to ooze, hot and thick, from his palm to his eye, slithering behind it and into his head. Link shuddered, his teeth rattling. Everyone stared, mystified, at him as his Malice repaired the web of fractures scattered across his skull, bringing some lucidity back to him.
The clouds suffocating Link's mind lifted. A chill darted across his skin as the Malice filling his head trickled down and out of his nasal cavity. Shaking his head, he blinked it off, coming back to himself. Maz Koshia released his grip on his hand. Link lowered it into his lap, locking gazes with him.
"How are you feeling?" Maz Koshia, and by extent, Phantom Ganon, asked.
Link stared into Maz Koshia's red eye, frowning. "I'm fine," he replied, wiping at his nose. He gawked at his Malice. It was still difficult for him to process that what was so poisonous to others was like manna to him. He was completely healed.
Maz Koshia echoed his sentiments, giving him a small smile. "I'm glad. Now then," the monk began, bringing his attention to the spear jammed into Link's knee. He swallowed, pointing to it. "We need to get this out." Maz Koshia got to his feet, grabbing hold of the spear's shaft. Link's heart fluttered, his face twitching at the subtle spike of pain that struck him.
Maz Koshia's jaw locked. "Hang in there, hero — this is going to hurt. Hold him down, will you, please?" the monk asked Symin and Purah. The pair obeyed, laying their hands on Link's shin, averting their gazes. Link readied himself, hunkering down and gripping the nearby table leg.
"I'm going to pull on three, all right?" Maz Koshia instructed. "Ready? One, two… three!"
With a sickening squelch, the monk wrenched the spear from Link's knee. Raw blood and bone shimmered up at everyone in the crimson half-light. A shockwave of pain ripped through Link's body, making him jolt. He gritted his teeth, half-crying out when his gut rolled, something hot shooting into his throat. Doubling over, he slapped a hand over his mouth, heaving.
Maz Koshia threw down Phantom Ganon's spear, much to the spirit's distaste. But the monk didn't listen to his subsequent protest. He was immediately on his knees, grabbing Link's free hand and pressing it against his knee. As his Malice poured into the wound to repair it, Link shuddered. His stomach clenched.
"I'm gonna be sick…!" Link grunted.
"If it wants to come out, let it," Maz Koshia said reverently. Leaning back, he searched for something for Link to purge into. Symin grabbed a nearby bucket full of ancient screws, dumped them out, and handed it to Maz Koshia. Thanking him, the monk tucked it into Link's lap.
Link latched onto it, jaw screwed shut, breathing heavily against the fire in his gut. But he bit it back. As the shock from his wounds gradually began to wear down, so did his nausea. Eventually, his stomach settled. He released a sigh, slumping over.
That seemed to be everyone's cue. They all followed Link's lead, sinking where they knelt, catching their breaths. But they weren't out of the woods yet. Everyone focused on Link's knee, watching his Malice feed into it with morbid fascination. They all jumped as periodical snaps and gurgles issued from his wound as his Malice grafted bones and sealed shredded ligaments — all without any input on his part. It took a minute or two for everything to become whole, again. When it finally did, Link's leg tingled.
Link shivered and took in a breath, removing his Malice-slicked hand from his knee. Everyone's eyes bugged when they found his knee completely unblemished, his freshly-repaired bones aglow through his clean, semi-transparent skin. This, incidentally, was the same knee that the Yiga had displaced back in Kakariko; Phantom Ganon had remembered, targeting it as one of Link's weak spots. But with the help of his Malice, even the lingering damage the Yiga had done was now totally erased.
From his perch within Maz Koshia, Phantom Ganon beamed at his master's recovery. The monk felt it; it sent a shiver up his neck.
It fell quiet again. Everyone slowly brought their gazes up to meet. Maz Koshia blinked, giving a breathy snort at how ragged everyone looked — ruffled hair, wide and heavy eyes, bruised and blood-stained. No doubt, Link was the worst out of them all. He looked like he'd just fought his way out of a grave.
Maz Koshia gave Link a small smile and patted his leg, sighing, "Well, I guess that's that." Link nodded, lowering his eyes.
With Link's injuries taken care of, the monk turned his attention to Purah and Symin. "Are you two all right?" he asked.
Symin nodded. "We're fine," he replied, his voice hollow. He gazed into Maz Koshia's red eye, frowning. "He… jumped us after we turned away the townsfolk." Symin winced, his eyes wandering to the burn on his ankle. "He dragged us inside, started raging."
"He demanded that we find Link," Purah added. "But we had no idea where you guys were."
Maz Koshia's chest hollowed out with guilt. He thumped his fist into the floor, scowling into Symin's burn. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have left him alone with you. I had no idea what he was… What damage he could do... " He shuddered. "And you were alone with him all day…!" Head hanging, he mourned, "I'm sorry."
Purah and Symin exchanged a miserable glance. "It's all right, Maz Koshia," Purah replied. "He didn't hurt us… that badly." She then looked to Link, gaping at the gore painting his face. "We weren't what he wanted. Link is all he cares about. All he ever thinks about." She shook her head, her mind bleeding with Phantom Ganon's outbursts. She breathed, "He's — he's insane."
The monk squirmed. Phantom Ganon listened in to their conversation with intrigue. Hanging his head, Maz Koshia replied, "Phantom Ganon hails from an era long since passed. He's spent countless millennia being tortured for his failures. So, yes. He's insane." Phantom Ganon puffed with pride; Maz Koshia scowled, continuing, "And unfortunately, we're stuck with him."
Maz Koshia rested his gaze on Link, continuing, "He has bonded himself to you. The only way we can get rid of him is to kill you." Link swallowed. Grinding his teeth, Maz Koshia went on, "...And he planned for that. Safe to say, he won't be leaving us anytime soon. No, all that we can do now is cede to his demands. Like it or not, he has a point about the Slate. You need it."
The monk sighed through his nose, picking up the device and inspecting it. "I… I need to get to work." He rose to his feet and pointed a stern finger at his companions. "You need to rest. All of you."
Link blinked, his brows shooting together. He shot to his feet as well. "What? No, I'm helping you! I broke it — I'm going to help."
Maz Koshia gave him a pitied smile. "It's fine, I can — "
Purah and Symin cut him off by gathering to their feet. Maz Koshia froze, stunned. Link, Purah, and Symin all looked up to him earnestly as Purah added, "We're helping, too, Maz. We're in this together."
Maz Koshia was touched by their willingness to help him. But he shivered as Phantom Ganon thrilled at his new set of lackeys. A smile cracked across the monk's lips — one that wasn't of his own volition. He stiffened, his gaze glazing over.
"Very well, then," he breezed. "I could use some extra hands. This is… going to take some time."
Everyone turned toward the table in the heart of the room. As Maz Koshia, Purah, and Link made their way towards it, Symin doubled back for the wall, flicking the lights on. The lab breathed with warm light, casting away the darkness blanketing the devastation Phantom Ganon had wrought. Everyone paused for a moment, taking in the remnants of his rather violent first impression — Link's blood smearing the floor, scattered papers, broken shelves, chairs, and floorboards. He certainly knew how to make an entrance.
But they didn't linger on it all for long. They had work to do.
Maz Koshia, Purah, and Symin all pulled up chairs, clearing away space on the tabletop. With one of the chairs smashed, Link had nowhere to sit, but that was fine. He was too anxious to sit still, anyway. As they worked, he fetched supplies and tools for them. Maz Koshia laid the Sheikah Slate on the table, opening to a fresh page on his notepad and grabbing a pencil, making note of the damage the Slate had taken. It was by no means trivial. Before long, the device sputtered and died, sending Phantom Ganon into a nervous sweat that had Maz Koshia retching.
But after some reassurance on the monk's part, as well as a few threats, the spirit stepped back, observing. Together, Maz Koshia, Link, Purah, and Symin tucked into repairing the Sheikah Slate. They spent the rest of the night carefully prying it open and separating its individual parts. Though he had worked with the Sheikah Slate before, Maz Koshia himself hadn't personally designed it. As such, he requested the Slate Lite from Purah, using it as a reference point.
The Slate Lite intrigued Phantom Ganon. He almost longed for the familiar embrace of a machine, but he knew the Lite wasn't nearly as powerful as the original. No, he'd just have to endure being cooped up within Maz Koshia's body until the Sheikah Slate was in working order.
But unfortunately, that wouldn't come to light anytime soon. Between salvaging all that they could and scrounging for any spare parts lying around — and there weren't many — the repair process was slow. Phantom Ganon grew impatient by the time midnight struck.
After everything they had been through that day, everyone's eyelids were beginning to droop. Symin dragged his pencil across his notes, his sentences barely legible; Purah sorted through spare parts foggily; Link swayed on his feet at the end of the table, eyes glazed over, his elbows locked; Maz Koshia's heavy head hung as he mindlessly tinkered with the Sheikah Slate's parts. Having worked mostly in silence for the past several hours, they all were shocked awake when Maz Koshia began to hiss to himself.
He twitched, jerking his head as if someone was screaming in his ear. "...Have you not seen the damage here?" he groused to no one, gesturing toward the melted mechanical guts of the Slate. "This won't be an easy fix." A brief pause. The monk's face twisted. "I know that's what I said — I can fix it. You just have to be patient."
Link blinked, leaning over the table toward Maz Koshia. "Maz, is everything all right?" he wondered.
Maz Koshia's gaze flew to Link. He frowned, smearing away some Malice from his left eye. "Everything's fine." He resumed fiddling with the Slate, grumbling, "Someone just isn't willing to wait." The moment he said it, he reacted as if he'd been punched in the throat. He doubled over, choking, his hand flying to his neck. Flecks of Malice flew out of his mouth.
Now awake, Link, Purah, and Symin lunged forward, gasping. But whereas Purah and Symin were worried, Link was anything but. His blood spiked with hot defiance, his eyes flashing. He slammed his Malice-slathered fist against the table, making everyone jump — including Phantom Ganon.
"Enough," Link growled, holding the spirit's gaze. "You're not helping."
Sneering, yet heeding his master, Phantom Ganon let it be, backing off. Maz Koshia grimaced, releasing a long exhale. He held his aching chest.
"Thank you, Link," the monk murmured.
"Don't mention it," Link replied, still glowering into Maz Koshia's red eye.
Purah looked between the two of them, her brows furrowed. She then looked to the pieces of the Sheikah Slate. "I don't get it — what's his rush? It's only been a few hours," she wondered.
Maz Koshia rested his elbows on the tabletop, holding his head in his hands. "He can't stand this. He'll only leave my body once the Slate is repaired — once he has something else to cling to. That, and, well…" Maz Koshia frowned at Link. "His countdown still stands."
"What?" Link gasped. In all the commotion, Phantom Ganon's countdown had been the last thing on his mind. "What do you mean? I-It's still going?"
Maz Koshia nodded. "I'm afraid so. He's counting every second, itching to teach you how to use your Malice."
Link straightened, his brows hitting his hairline. "Teach me?!" he snorted. A short spurt of bewildered laughter blasted out of him. "Why would he think I'd want to learn anything from him after what happened? After what he did?" Maz Koshia's fist closed, Phantom Ganon snarling. Link, noting the monk's reaction, looked into his red eye, spitting, "If this is what you truly are, then I refuse to learn from you. I'm backing out."
Maz Koshia shivered, his red eye smoldered with betrayal. He ground his jaw and pursed his lips, swallowing. "I think we both know that's not an option, Link," he breathed.
The monk gave a sudden jolt when one of his ribs snapped. He hunched over the tabletop, grimacing, clutching his side. Everyone rushed forward, appalled. Link had a mind to chew out Phantom Ganon further.
"Phantom — !" he began, snarling, only for Maz Koshia to cut him off.
"He's going to teach you, whether you like it or not," he promised, his voice grim. "He has to do it… in three days… beneath the rays of the coming Blood Moon. It's what he's been waiting for, Link."
Link froze, his eyes widening. His heart stuttered for some reason.
Purah's eyes bulged. "Blood Moon?!" she repeated. "That's what he's waiting for?! The Blood Moon?"
"I completely forgot about that…!" Symin whimpered.
Link's gaze jumped between Maz Koshia, Purah, and Symin. "Blood Moon…?!" He gasped. "What is that? W-why does that sound like a bad thing?"
Syimin tried to reassure him with, "It's okay, Link, it's not like the moon's going to crash into the planet, or something."
Maz Koshia added, "Maybe so, but, during a Blood Moon… Ganon's power grows."
Everyone simultaneously turned their eyes on Link. His blood ran cold. Maz Koshia inspected him from his third eye to the Malice that still coated his arms. He gave a rattled sigh, his face twisted with anxiety. "Normally, I wouldn't worry, but… I have no idea what may or may not happen to you during one, what with your Malice…?"
Link stiffened, his eyes flying to his sludgy arms. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he folded his arms, shifting his feet. A pang of nausea seeped into his stomach.
"...Will anything happen to me, Maz?" he wondered, his voice shaky.
"I don't know, Link," the monk frowned, his heart breaking. "I wish I did. I'm afraid all we can do is wait." He looked upon the broken Sheikah Slate and held his throat, adding, "But if we don't repair the Slate before then… I won't be around to find out."
Everyone stopped cold, their eyes glued to the Malice leaking out of the monk's eye. Link shuddered. He knew what Maz Koshia meant. They all did. But he wouldn't let it happen.
Fire stoked in Link's blood. "Then let's get to work. Let's fix the Slate," he said firmly, straightening and blinking the exhaustion from his eyes. "I won't let him do anything to you, Maz."
The monk swallowed the trepidation in his throat. He gave a soft nod, murmuring, "All right."
They knew what they had to do. "I'll make a pot of coffee," Symin offered, rising from his chair.
"I'll grab some snacks," Purah added.
Link and Maz Koshia kept their gazes locked. Link's jaw worked. His fists closed. "Let's do this, Maz."
The monk nodded.
As the four of them got back to work, somewhat rejuvenated by Maz Koshia's haunting words, Phantom Ganon watched them with dark delight. Despite this rather unforeseen turn of events, things were working out in his favor — just as they should.
He sighed, making himself comfortable. Soon, he would be free of the monk and back within the Slate. Back with his master. Soon, they would be reunited beneath the bloody rays of the moon. He knew what would happen during the Blood Moon. It would be unlike anything Hyrule had ever seen.
And he couldn't wait.
Argh! What a chapter! This one was a BLAST. Kind of dark, kind of violent, but a joy to put together nevertheless. I hope you enjoyed the official debut of our spirit.
So, was anybody right in their guesses?! Was he all you hoped he'd be?! Honestly, I've had WAY too much fun getting into his character. I loved writing his outbursts, his creepy obsession with Link, his fight scenes... everything! He's going to be a very entertaining part of the story, and I can't wait to bring you along for the ride.
So here we are, on the cusp of the upcoming Blood Moon. I remember my first Blood Moon in BotW... Link's wouldn't go nearly as smoothly as mine. Any guesses as to what's going to happen? It's going to be insane, I'll tell you that much. Phantom Ganon won't hold back this time.
All in all, I really enjoyed this chapter. I loved writing the fight between Maz Koshia and Phantom Ganon. I wanted Phantom Ganon to just completely wipe the floor with everyone - all that pent-up rage would do that to someone. That said, had Maz Koshia been healthy or otherwise uninjured, he would have won that fight hands-down. But he wasn't. :( Maybe Phantom Ganon planned on that? He's rather devious...
Anyway, I won't ramble any longer. THANK YOU so much for reading! I look forward to seeing you in the next chapter. Until then, stay safe, stay happy, stay healthy. You're amazing!
- Sammy