A/N:

And here's part two!

Another language warning, and a warning for some extra blood and nasty injuries, and references to self-harm.

That's all for now, enjoy.

Ghirahim was drenched in sweat by the time he managed to get his tenth hit on the lynel. It was faster, stronger, more skilled, and more durable than anything he'd come across yet, wielding a heavy, jagged sword and a sharp-edged shield. He forced himself to keep a tight grip on his sword as he managed to teleport a few feet away, getting out of range of the beast's attacks.

He had to admit, a lynel was a rather majestic beast, the lower body of a large horse, a fur-covered humanoid torso and arms, and the head of what Ghirahim guessed was a lion with curved horns. It was a fast and nimble and smarter than any other monster, wearing armor over its shoulders. Ghirahim had managed to stick a few daggers in its hide, not counting those as proper hits since they didn't seem to do anything. It was when Ghirahim got at it with his sword when he decided he was making progress.

The lynel now sported a few deep cuts in its chest and haunches, and they slowed it. A little bit.

The uneven terrain kept Ghirahim on his toes as he skirted around pits and scaled steep hills, the lynel following him at every turn. Goddesses, he was happy that it didn't have a bow. Lynel's were known for having aim that seemed to defy the laws of physics and the world itself.

Ghirahim brought up a small barrier that deflected the tip of the lynel's sword and summoned a cloud of daggers. The sheer number of daggers sapped Ghirahim's energy for a moment, making him stagger, but he sent them flying at the lynel all the same. Most of them hit their mark, burying themselves in the lynel's side. It roared in fury, and it took all of Ghirahim's self-control to not clap his hands over his ears. He danced back a few feet to dodge another wild attack, then ran back in.

He feinted left, successful catching the lynel's attention, then sank his ebony blade deep into its right flank. Summoning as much strength as he could, he dragged his sword through as much of the tough skin and muscle as he could, lengthening the cut before the lynel kicked Ghirahim in the jaw. That was his punishment for getting way to close to its back legs.

Those hooves were as hard as diamond, and dislocated Ghirahim's jaw with just one kick. Ghirahim let out a strangled cry, his eyes filling with tears and his mouth filling with blood. Luckily, he kept his sword in his hands as it was jostled from the lynel's wound. His vision blurry, Ghirahim stumbled away, desperately trying to hide for even a few seconds. At least the lynel was busy letting out another roar.

Ghirahim ducked behind one of the taller mounds, huddling in a small valley. His entire face felt like it was on fire and burning off, and he couldn't move his jaw without sending vicious waves of pain through his skull. He let out a low moan, touching the bloody gash that was left behind from the lynel's kick. He was lucky that the damned thing didn't just rip his jaw off entirely.

He could feel that his jaw was tilted at an ugly angle, the left side pushed in a few inches. His tongue was practically hanging out of the side of his mouth where his jaw was sunken into his face. Ghirahim sucked in some saliva that had started down the side of his mouth as he heard the lynel clopping around.

He could still fight. He could ignore the nauseating pain for as long as it took him to kill that stupid thing. Leading it into a pit wasn't an option- it was too fast and too big. He'd have to kill it with his own weapons.

A deep thrust between the shoulder blades or through the neck was known to be an efficient way to kill one.

Oh, Hylia, it felt like his skull was filled to the brim with spiny porcupines. The blood in his mouth felt like lava from the way everything around his jaw burned. Ghirahim coughed, and tears sprang to his eyes as fresh pain wracked his body.

For once, his last thought was about how his new injury would probably ruin his handsome face. At the least, he knew that would further motivate Linebeck to fix this. He was the only one with proper medical knowledge.

Oh, right. Ghirahim groped at the bag at his hip. Midna's health potions! Though, from the dampness of the bottom of the bag, he was sure that some of the bottles had broken. Sifting through the broken glass, he found that all but one of his stamina potions had broken. He downed it with checking for the rest. He had two strength potions left and all three speed potions.

His only health potion had been smashed. Wonderful.

Still, he drank a strength and speed potion, tilting his head and allowing the vicious liquid to drip down his throat like with the stamina potion. The stamina potion numbed the pain, returning energy to his limbs. Ghirahim coughed again, wincing as more pair shot through his head. He heard the lynel growl, the noise far too close.

Ghirahim snatched his sword back up, noting that he moved much faster than before without his thoughts lagging behind. His sword seemed to weigh less than normal. He'd always loved the effects that Midna's potions had. Ghirahim himself rarely allowed himself to try drugs, but he couldn't help but distantly equate the feeling of the stronger potions to the sensation of being high or something. He was never allowed to touch any of Linebeck's stuff, anyways.

The lynel ran around the corner, instantly spotting Ghirahim. It reacted immediately, slashing with impressive speed, but Ghirahim reacted quickly enough to dodge and get close enough. He sent knives flying into its chest, able to produce more at the cost of less energy and scored a deep gash across its waist. The lynel roared again and swung its shield around at Ghirahim's neck, and this time he didn't have time to move out of the way.

Instead, he poured his energy into creating a barrier, halting the sharpened shield with both that magic and his sword. The lynel growled, pushing with more strength against Ghirahim's barrier, but he poured his focus into mending the smallest of cracks and maintaining the barrier. He managed to shuffle aside and released the magic in the same moment that he dove to the side. He fell gracelessly to the ground, slamming his mouth against the base of a hill. White-hot agony let him dazed and helpless as the lynel bore down on him once again.

The beast was weaker, however. Through the thick sheen of tears, Ghirahim's cloudy mind could string together the fact that the lynel was slower and less steady in its movements. With a great deal of self-control, Ghirahim forced himself to his feet, the angry pounding of blood in his ears demanding otherwise. He got to his knees and nearly keeled over as a fresh wave of pain crashed over him. Before he could hesitate any further, Ghirahim pushed himself into a standing position and nearly vomited, his body protesting every movement.

The lynel stowed its weapons on its back and lowered itself closer to the ground, a back hoof scraping the smooth floor. Ghirahim swayed. It was going to charge him, and gore him on one of those curved horns. He cursed the short time limit on the potions' effects, feeling the extra strength and speed seep out of his body along with his blood.

His jaw was broken, bent at an ugly angle with the left side shoved too far in. Both arms felt heavy and useless, as he'd scraped them in trying to break his fall. One of his ankles felt twisted, and the other leg had gotten especially bruised when the lynel bashed him with the flat of its sword earlier. His right middle and ring finger were broken. There was a cut in his hip that reached the bone. Ghirahim coughed once again. Blood pooled in his mouth and dripped out the downwards-tilted side, staining his previously unblemished white clothes and dampening his cloak. For the first time, Ghirahim found himself somewhat accepting of death.

The lynel charged at him, and despite the screaming pain in every single cell of his body, Ghirahim gripped his sword with both hands and dove out of the way. The lynel just barely missed him, and, with a sudden clarity in his thoughts, Ghirahim reached out a grabbed a handful of the lynel's meticulously groomed mane. Still mid-charge, Ghirahim was tugged along with the lynel, and he managed to haul himself onto its muscular back, grabbing onto more and more mane hair and clinging on for dear life as the beast barreled over the uneven terrain.

It came to a stop, straightening its back, growling deeply as it realized it had an unwanted rider. But that growl turned to a whine as it felt the sharp pain of a sword's blade sunken deep in its neck. Ghirahim forced the blade in further, further, his forearms getting lost in the silky mane and he drove his sword into its thick neck. He felt the blade scrape against bone, and then tore the sword out sideways. The lynel wailed and started bucking Ghirahim off, clawing at its ruined neck.

Ghirahim was flung off the lynel's back and slammed against a steep hill. Oh. There went three of his ribs, cracking and breaking like they were made of flimsy plastic. Still, his forced his eyes to stay open as the watched the lynel thrash, a mournful whine torn from its ragged throat as it felt itself crumbling and turning to smoke, like all monsters did when they died.

It faded to purple smoke, and the room's floor slowly began smoothing out. Ghirahim exhaled slowly, hearing the gurgle of blood in his lungs. Was he going to die? He grabbed at his bag and lifted it up while the pits were filled in and the hills flattened out. He found a red wet spot at the bottom of the bag, and, not caring if it was blood or health potion, licked up some of the droplets that clung to the fabric.

The bitter taste hit his tongue, and he knew it was a meager amount of health potion. The liquid slid down his throat, and Ghirahim felt his smaller wounds slowly close up. He exhaled again. The gurgle was there, but the pain in his chest was slightly abated. He sighed, and then immediately regretted it, now staring up the at bright lights in the ceiling. He could rest for a few minutes.

The robot hadn't been a problem- a few well-aimed jabs and it was down. The real problem was that it kept getting back up.

Midna severed wires, watched the robot crumple, and then watched as those same wires re-connected, and the robot sprang up again. It carefully stayed in the middle of the room, making it virtually impossible for Midna to knock it in the lava, even after she downed a strength potion. It seemed rooted to the group, and Midna was starting to suspect that it actually was. Curious, Midna roughly knocked the robot's feet out from under it. It's blade-wielding limbs flailed, and it slammed heavily onto the ground before quickly righting itself.

It was enough time for Midna to see that it was in fact connected to the floor via thick wires. She cursed under her breath and blocked an attack from it. She tried shadow-walking behind it and getting it with a strong attack, but it stayed stationary, held stable by the wires. Teleporting had no other effects- Midna even tried to levitate it a bit, but nothing was accomplished by that.

It was obvious that she had to do something with her magic, but Midna couldn't think of a single way that that would work. She tried severing as many wires as possible, or tired cutting away at the shaped exoskeleton. The flickering spearhead did nothing against the special metal. Midna shuffled back, out of the robot's range, and downed a stamina potion. The heat from the lava and the constant fighting with the robot was chipping away at her energy. If she didn't figure out something quick, she was going to get thrown into the lava or killed.

Midna blocked another attack from the robot, and her attention was drawn to the strange torches. The black and blue coloring of them was almost identical to the colors that appeared when Midna would teleport and were the same shades that she found on her own skin, and on the skin of Twili she'd seen in pictures. A part of Twili magic that she had yet to try was the manipulation of energy. Well, of course, she had tried it, but hadn't made much progress with it.

As she had explored that maze, Midna had decided that the maze was specifically tailored to the talents of magicians- hence why it would've been progressively more impossible and deadly for anyone who would traverse it normally. And the strange fires were dim enough that most of the maze walls were draped in shadow. Those odd flames had been in the back of Midna's mind since she ever saw them, and now, backing away from the robot, she frowned at the torches hanging above the arena.

Experimentally, Midna held out a hand towards one of the torches. She poured as much concentration as she could into manipulating those flames. She knew of elemental-type magicians- Urbosa and a number of the Gerudo had control over lightning and electricity. Ghirahim's friend, Vaati, had taught himself to manipulate the wind. She knew of those who could influence fire and water. The Zora's healing abilities were directly linked to their manipulation of water.

Midna could control energy, or she was supposed to be able to. She'd been able to make small things float and forcefully quicken the process of potion-making. Right now, she felt something deep within her mind stir. It was blocked off, similar to how her past memories were locked behind a wall of sorts. It stirred and easily seeped out from behind that wall, and the fire lurched in response to Midna's willing it to do so. Excitement made her shiver.

She opened and closed her hand, wiggling her fingers and moving her hand around. The fire mimicked her movements, the black and blue tongues bending and responding. It wasn't until Midna stepped forward when she noticed just how much those small movements took from her- her leg buckled underneath her, feeling heavy and weak as if she'd run from the edge of the wastelands to the city and back without rest.

The robot didn't even acknowledge how Midna gasped for air. It one stood still, waiting for her to return to its range. But Midna stared up at it, too tired to move, but not so tired that she couldn't understand what she had to do. It was obvious that the fire was strange. It didn't give off heat when Midna passed by it atop the maze, but she could sense a different kind of power in it.

This maze and the fire within it must've been specifically tailored for someone with her skillset. Most fire magicians that she'd heard of could only control normal fire. Midna scraped together what remaining energy she had and forced herself to reach out again. This time, she managed to take control of all four torch fires, and the air was sucked from her lungs. Fighting to keep from passing out, Midna slammed her hand down- the fire flew from the torches and spilled onto the robot.

She didn't expect it to scream, but she didn't expect it to stand still, not reacting while the unnatural fire burned away at its wires and melting its armor and weapons. It crumbled within seconds, its limbs falling to the ground, still burning like they were made of wood. Midna gasped for air, not daring to move and waste any of it. The heat of the room made it difficult to suck in any good air. The robot was nothing but a melted heap by the time Midna felt that she could sit up.

At the far end of the arena, opposite the maze, a bridge extended out towards a slowly opening door. Midna listlessly stared at her exit, leaning heavily against her spear and still too tired to move. The others could wait while she caught her breath.

While he feverishly worked, Linebeck found himself pitying Bellum, since the AI was forced to know exactly what Linebeck was thinking at all times. He wondered how Bellum could focus with a constant stream of manic and disconnected thoughts and curses as Linebeck tossed parts aside and dug through the piles of metal. He still hadn't gotten started on a key, since Bellum was still busy inspecting the keyhole.

He cast aside too-large chunks of metal and discarded scraps that were too small to be useful. Linebeck set aside screws and bolts and nuts and made piles for complete and undamaged parts that he could name off the top of his head. There were a few screwdrivers and wrenches he could use, but no blowtorches or blades. Still, he could use his robotic lighter and razor fingertips. The lack of specific tools was never a problem for him, anyways. Conventional means of engineering never appealed to him.

"It's not too deep," Bellum reported. "It's not even very complicated. The problem was that most of the inner-workings of it were painted darkly and would've been near-impossible to see on your own."

"Thanks. Lemme see it so I can get started."

Bellum just blinked at him, then, after a moment, went "Oh. Right. I can do that."

"Yeah. I haven't needed you to do that in a while. I'll take any other help and advice you can give me, too."

Normally, Bellum was the only one able to receive images and words from Linebeck, considering he was directly connected to the man's brain. Linebeck had spent a good few months trying to figure out how that had been managed without killing him, but it was all information lost with his memories. But, on occasion, Bellum was also able to show images to Linebeck- it just took a bit of energy from the two of them and wasn't something they often needed. The first thing that Linebeck could think of it being useful for was seeing into a robot's innards or checking the cards of some other player, but that was all information that Linebeck could get with minimal effort or could be relayed verbally. Of course, the inside of a keyhole was something that Linebeck needed to see in order to create a key to fit it.

Linebeck flinched as the image slid into his mind. It was always an uncomfortable feeling, and he saw Bellum flicker in his peripheral vision. "I need you to stick around, alright?" All he got in response was a grunt, and he started sorting parts around again once he had the image in mind. "Yeah, that's not as detailed as I thought."

"That's good," Bellum grumbled. "What kinda help do you want from me?"

"You decide. Just don't leave me alone. How about you measure the keyhole?"

Bellum zipped off, did just that, and reported the dimensions back to Linebeck. Within minutes, a small prototype was created and discarded. The way that Linebeck worked intrigued Bellum. It always had, but it was never unfamiliar. He remembered, how when they were in Kakariko Village, he'd chosen to do a small experiment and compare how Linebeck worked to how Purah and Robbie, skilled Sheikah scientists, worked. Two eccentric groups, and Bellum ended up with varying results.

There seemed to be much less thought involved in how Linebeck worked. The AI had silently watched the two Sheikah scientists worked, noting how they often took to their notes and discussed their findings. They were eccentric, yes, but methodical and with a clear plan. On the other hand, Linebeck had been constantly moving and mindlessly toying with his newest little project whilst wondering what it'd be like to smoke five cigarettes at once. He worked extraordinarily fast, and probably because he took the high road and disregarded any kind of safety guidelines in favor of freedom and sheer speed.

In hindsight, it was a good thing that Linebeck was ambidextrous, favored his left hand while working, and had a prosthetic left hand, otherwise he would've lost it ages ago. Still, that frenzied work ethic had its severe downsides as Linebeck ignored his own well-being and spiraled into feverish, manic periods of constant work that would, if uninterrupted, inevitably end with him tearing off his prosthetics in frustration and eventually passing out. The removal of the prosthetics was often disturbing to Bellum, since he knew more than anyone that Linebeck despised the times when they were removed. The only times he removed them in a stable situation was when he took a shower or generally bathed himself.

Now, watching the man reach that frenzied state of scattered focus, Bellum felt a cold sense of dread. He didn't care about anyone but Linebeck, and he knew well enough that it wasn't only because his own 'life' was tied to the engineer's. Watching him struggle through anxious and panicked states and stifle fear and put up a brave, arrogant face when faced with someone outside his small friend group was always deeply unnerving. As much as Bellum acted with childish disgust in regards to Linebeck's relationship with Damien, he was deeply relived that there was someone who now knew and understood Linebeck almost as much as Bellum did.

Actually, while he was working, Bellum found that Linebeck's thoughts currently often drifted to Damien. His hands shook while he worked, but that shaking stopped whenever he slid a new part into place or tightly screwed a bolt into place. Perhaps he preferred to work so often because it led to less interaction with others. Avoidance. If Bellum had a proper face, he would've frowned.

The key looked less like, well, a key, and more like some kind of mangled weapon. Bellum peered critically at it, still silent. It was created more to be slid into place, and then activated to fill the empty space and unlock the door. It was ugly and crude and the bare minimum of what was required, but it would work.

"That didn't take as long as I thought," Bellum drawled, watching Linebeck hoist the heavy mass of metal into his arms. "Then again, that thing looks like it'll fall apart after being used once. How'd you get this on the first try?"

Linebeck shrugged. "It made sense."

"Intuition?"

"Sure." Linebeck carried the 'key' over to the gate and peered at the keyhole. "Who made this thing, anyways? It'd be impossible for anyone other than me to do this."

"Would it?"

"Well, I needed you, and wouldn't have been able to know what kind of key I needed to make. Besides, the tools that were missing were a blade and a blowtorch- I did end up having to soften and bend some metal, though I didn't end up needing a blade anyways."

"Nothing too specific," Bellum muttered as Linebeck managed to slide the key into place. He twisted it, and loud clicking emitted from inside the door. The doors clicked and opened slightly- Linebeck was able to push it open all the way. They halted, finding a smaller, bare room beyond it. A single console was set into the far wall. "I take it back," Bellum breathed. "This is incredibly specific."

The console had two different scanners- one to recognize eyes, and one to recognize a left hand. Recognition consoles were notoriously hard to create and program, so they were rare across Hyrule. Linebeck silently walked up to the console, a cold, disturbed feeling spreading through his limbs. He tugged his glove off and set his left hand into the hand scanner. His robotic hand, with all its strange beams and wires and its skeletal design, fit perfectly into the slight indention, not a single bit of space left open.

He stared quietly at it for a moment, seeing the tiny screen above it blink green. His eyes then drifted to the eye scanner. Initially, Linebeck assumed that that would be normal, but wouldn't it scan for a specific person's eyes? After all, wasn't this supposed to have been created two centuries ago? But, as he looked at the eye scanner, the two eyes that it showed as the ones it was expecting perfectly mirrored Linebeck's- with the neon lines in the whites like the wires of a circuit board. He didn't bother wasting time- he leaned in towards that screen and flinched as it glowed a brighter shade of green, and the wall slid aside. He was free to leave, but something was wrong.

Still, he walked through the final doorway, wondering specifically just who this temple had been made for, and who'd created it.

Two green lights glowed in the wall. Link glanced up at them with mild curiosity- the third light was still dim. He had little to do aside from reading the posters plastered to the wall. He'd spent the first few minutes exploring the room, but it was clear that there was nothing to fear, just the possibility of being left in this room to die.

Once the second light turned green, Link read the posters. Each of the three was written in that same nameless code. Each had a title written at the top: Magician, Fighter, Engineer.

Presumably his long-dead allies from 200 years ago that he kept having dreams about.

Link quickly scanned each one, a distant feeling of grief gathering in his chest. From his memories, it seemed like had had been close friends with him, and they'd trusted him. They had been meant to save Hyrule, right? And they'd failed, and now, 200 years later, a new, similar group was trying again.

He didn't even remember them. He didn't remember anyone from 200 years ago.

Link's mind went to the new group: Midna, Ghirahim, Linebeck. They were his friends, and the ones who had been passed the task of saving Hyrule. Well, Midna was in it for her lost memories, Ghirahim seemed like he wanted a good fight, and Linebeck was being dragged along against his will. Still, they were friends, even if they had initially joined this escapade for the promise of a reward and because Link was desperate to be a hero.

The Magician's poster was filled with a surprising number of jokes; they asked Link how he was doing, if he was keeping those joints oiled, asking how many monsters he'd managed to kill. They compared him to a wolf. That line sparked something unfamiliar in Link's chest. He read further. The jokes died out and the Magician sounded sincere, talking about how they hoped that Link could succeed in his second try. How they hoped that he would survive until he next woke.

A shock rushed through Link. Did they know that they would fail? Or was this temple created mere days before the destruction of Hyrule? Either way, they would've needed to have known of their imminent failure.

The Fighter's poster was more blunt- they thanked him for giving them a chance and for being a good sparring partner and thanked him for taking care of the youngest of the group. The Engineer, Link assumed, based off how the Fighter called them an 'intuitive little brat'. Not long after that line, the Fighter expressed pain over their failures, though they weren't explained. Finally, they simply said that they had decided that serving Link and the rest of the group was a perfectly good use of their lingering sense of loyalty.

The Engineer's was last. It was the bluntest, with awkward thanks and gratitude, and then, a line that made Link pause. He read it out loud under his breath. "...'You're my greatest creation, and through you, I have learned how to defy death through the means of robotics. I hope I can learn to value my own life in the way that I value yours.'"

The young engineer from 200 years ago was the one who'd created Link, then.

The rest of it was thinly veiled sarcastic jabs at both Link and the rest of the group for failing, ending with a lament about fearing death.

Link stumbled back from the posters, an empty feeling aching in his chest. No new memories were stirred. He simply stood there, distant grief plaguing his mind.

But, oddly enough, he knew that the grief wasn't for them.

A low sound rang out, like a hum, and the third light glowed green. The far wall shifted back and slid to the side, revealing itself to be a doorway. Link gathered up his things and left that little room before he could even think about staying any longer. He walked into the next room, heart hammering in his chest.

It was a long, rectangular room with another large door. He was really getting tired of doors. Link thought about pacing the room, but that idea was lost as he spotted Linebeck wandering around. "Hey!" he called out. "Did you get hurt?"

"N-no," Linebeck replied, jogging over to meet Link. "Didn't need to use any potions. I've still got the health potion she gave me. I had to make some complicated key for an equally complicated keyhole and..." He trailed off, then shook his head. "It's not important. I'll tell you about it later. Where are the others?"

"Dunno." Link glanced over his shoulder, spotting Midna stumbled over to them. "Hey!" He called out, waving at her. She gave him a weak wave, then downed one of her own potions. From the distance, Link could see that it was what remained of a stamina potion. Linebeck and Link ran up to her, seeing that she was mildly scuffed up and sweaty. "You good?"

"Rigged maze," She rasped. "But it's okay. I cheated. Had to deal with a robot. In an arena surrounded by lava. I can manipulate Twili flames. I want to sleep for a week. I've had both of my stamina potions. Didn't have a health potion. I feel like shit." Midna leaned against Link without asking. "What about you two?"

"Weird keyhole, I had to make a key for it."

"Just a weird room. Ghirahim's gotta be done- it didn't let me leave until three lights were turned on." Link pointed at the doorway that opened into a large white room. "I bet that's his."

Midna wrapped an arm around Link's shoulders. "Great, let's go."

The three of them entered the room, unanimously grateful that it wasn't blindingly bright. It didn't take long for them to see the red smear in the middle of the room. Linebeck set off sprinting over to it.

Ghirahim's eyes fluttered open as Linebeck slowed near him. He made a gurgling sound and whined as pain shot through him again. Linebeck kneeled at his side, squinting at him. "I thought you were dead."

Ghirahim grunted. It took him some time and pain, but he managed to get out the mangled word: "Ly... nel..."

"Then I'm surprised you're alive, you lucky motherfucker."

"Sil... ver..."

"A silver lynel? Damn. Your jaw is at, like, a gross angle."

"Hea... lth... pot... ion..."

"Health potions won't do shit for this," Linebeck muttered, frowning. "We need to fix your jaw before anything else. Health potions don't do anything for dislocations." He looked up as Link and Midna joined him. "Hold him down. Midna, you take care of his limbs, and Link, you hold his head in place."

Weight was pressed down across Ghirahim's legs, and someone held his head in place. Linebeck was talking to Bellum as far as he could tell and kept glancing at open air and then at Ghirahim. He was confused and was about to ask what was going on when Linebeck jammed both of his thumbs into his mouth. His hands were gloved and tasted like dirt and oil. Linebeck pressed the rest of his fingers against the bottom of Ghirahim's jaw, and he carefully felt around for the joints. Ghirahim was going to try and ask a question around Linebeck's fingers when sheer, white-hot agony hit him like that lynel's hoof as the man jerked Ghirahim's jaw in one direction.

Ghirahim screeched, feeling his jaw click back into place, and he tried to get into a sitting position. "Son of a bitch," he gasped once Linebeck's hands were out of his mouth. "How do I know you didn't just make things worse?"

Linebeck shrugged. "I've done a lot of research on medical shit like this. Besides, since your jaw is back in place, the health potions should be able to heal you correctly!" Linebeck held up the remaining health potion, dropping it in Ghirahim's lap.

The demon rubbed his abused jaw, wincing as Midna and Link let go of him. He froze as Linebeck wiped the spit and blood on his gloves off on Ghirahim's shirt. "How dare you," Ghirahim howled, his voice cracking in dismay. He leapt to his feet, the potion clattering on the ground without cracking. "You dare wipe that shit on my shirt? Goddesses, I'll never get this out! Blood is so hard to wash out of these clothes! You've ruined them. My immaculate clothes! I made sure these were perfect when I picked them out!"

"And then you cut holes in them to show off your abs and chest," Linebeck drawled. "Don't be such a baby and drink the potion. Damien knows how to wash blood out of clothes, and I'm pretty sure Midna does, too. I'm learning how to do it, you might as well too. Besides, that stupid bodysuit of yours is practically already drenched in your own blood." Linebeck picked up the health potion and tossed it at a fuming Ghirahim. He started to walk away, adding under his breath, "'Immaculate' my ass."

Indignant but still in pain, Ghirahim choked down the health potion as he scrambled after the others. He felt his cracked ribs fuse back together and the small hole in his lung repair itself, along with the other injuries across his body. Linebeck's bedside manner was always terrible, and this time, he managed to bruise Ghirahim's ego. Still, he didn't have time to cry over something like that. They had a legendary sword to collect.

They stood, the four of them, in front of the large door. They quietly inspected the four handprints, shuffling each other around to figure out whose hand belonged to which handprint, too tired to note that they were identical to their own hands. Link pressed his hand into the far-right print, Ghirahim next to him, then Midna, and then Linebeck down the line.

There was a high-pitched hum, and the doors swung open inwards. Bright, golden light streamed in and nearly blinded the four of them. Link was the first to recover, but his breath caught in his chest as he stared out into the new room.

It was circular, with a shallow pond of clear, beautiful water. Lily pads floated on the surface and vines crept up the pale golden bricks of the walls. A similarly colored bridge led from the door to a small island, only a few inches above the water. Bright light similar to sunlight streamed down from somewhere high above the room, and as Link stepped into it, it appeared that the room had no ceiling as the vine-covered brick walls faded into a whitish void. It was oddly serene, but eerie at the same time.

Link remained, frozen a few steps from the doorway as he stared at what rested on the island- The Master Sword in a modest pedestal. It didn't look entirely like the history books described it; the blade was long, slowly tapering to a point hidden in stone, the metal taking on a pale blue sheen. The Triforce was carved into a wider part of the blade by the hilt. The guard of it spread out on either side like wings, but were colored a pale gold, different from how it was described. The history books always said that it was either blue or purple. It looked thinner than it should have, and the yellow gem set into the guard was more rounded at the edges. The grip itself was long, long enough to allow for two hands and then some. The pommel was that same pale gold as the guard, slightly wider than the grip before bending and ending in a sharp point.

While Link gawked, Ghirahim and Midna had already walked past him towards the sword. Link was snapped out of his stupor by Linebeck taking his hand and dragging him into the room with them, a thin, amused smile on his face. Link didn't let go of Linebeck's hand until they reached the steps up to the sword itself, and then he let go, letting out a long breath. "It's beautiful."

"Not at all what the history books said," Ghirahim commented, echoing Link's earlier thoughts. "It doesn't have that blue color, and the blade is thinner. Longer. So is the grip. The most accurate part is the blade itself, the shape of the guard, and those leather bands on the grip."

"Still a pretty sword," Midna mused. "It's definitely magical, that's for sure."

Linebeck crossed his arms across his chest and let out a short huff, catching everyone's attention. "Well, I sure as hell wasn't expecting to get to see literally one of the most sacred things in all existence. I wonder what the goddesses think about a thieving, lying, bastard who once attacked a bastard in his home and ended up causing his death getting to be in the same room as it."

"You what?" Midna whispered, looking a bit less surprised than she sounded.

"It's not important, what's important is that had ended up being an even worse criminal and I also got my money back. Damien doesn't just call hits on random people; I had evidence on this guy."

"Damien called a hit on the guy?"

"Yeah, he probably sent some other Yiga to do the dirty work. The dude was found stabbed to shit. He probably sent Ashei or something. Listen, I don't think we should be discussing the nitty gritty of the fate of that one asshole who I played cards against that one time. We're here! In front of the Master Sword. We've come a long way, eh?" Linebeck placed his hands on his hips, smiling at everyone else. Genuinely.

His goggles were down and around his neck, so Link could see that he was sincerely smiling. Digging around in his memories, Link realized just how rarely Linebeck actually, genuinely smiled at anyone other than Damien, if he even did in the first place. Link had been having a damn hard time actually liking Linebeck, but he couldn't help smiling back. "Y-yeah. Not that you've done much, jerk."

Linebeck opened his mouth like he was going to protest, then sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I've been nothing but a jackass shut-in this whole time. Punch me."

"Wh-what?!"

"For that time I treated you like shit after you broke my leg. And for when I punched you earlier. Punch me. Take your pick where. Kick me in the crotch. See if I care."

It didn't take long for Link to realize that protesting was pointless. He shifted, grimaced, and decided on a kick to the crotch. He put a fair bit of force into it and was mildly surprised that Linebeck didn't react to badly. Of course, he did hiss and fall to his knees, but that was it. Linebeck doubled over, pressing his forehead to the ground. "D-dammit," he hissed.

"You asked me to do it."

"Y-yeah, I know... J-just give me a second..." He exhaled weakly.

Ghirahim shifted, hands on his hips. "Well, he's had that coming for a while. Well, are you alright?"

"I said g-give me a second. I'm okay."

"I forgot he's not as effected by that stuff," Ghirahim mused. "Never fun to see him in pain, though." In an undertone, he whispered, "Seeing him get hurt always sucks since we know it's extra hard on him." He bent over and tapped Linebeck on the shoulder. "We don't have all day. We are still in the same room as the Master Sword, remember?"

Linebeck grabbed Ghirahim by the arm and dragged himself up, then tightly hugged the demon. Link heard Linebeck's breath become shallow, but he didn't let go of Ghirahim while he rested his chin on his shoulder. "I've been so rude to all of you."

Midna laughed weakly. "A bit late to be realizing that, but yeah. It's alright, though. Been a while since you've hugged any of us."

"I've never hugged you guys," Linebeck mumbled. "Never trusted you enough." He pulled away from Ghirahim and scratched at his arms. "...It feels weird... I can tell that these issues are caused by shit in my past, but there's not much we can do to fix it if we can't figure out what caused all this."

"You should invest in therapy," Midna mused.

"I'm not going to trust some stranger with my problems." Linebeck pulled the sleeve of his coat and dress shirt up and started scratching at his bare skin, his sharp, metal fingertips breaking the skin. "It just makes me scared that they'll hurt me or something-"

Midna stepped forward and grabbed Linebeck's wrist, forcing himself to quit clawing at himself. "Stop doing that. Claw any deeper and we'll need to stop and keep you from bleeding out." Linebeck's hand twitched. "Look, I know this stuff makes you feel itchy," Midna whispered, her voice now soft. "But hurting yourself as an outlet won't get anything done. You've managed to stop cutting yourself- try stopping this, too."

Linebeck jerked his wrist out of Midna's grip and rubbed the back of his neck, tilting his head down to that his hair hid his face. He let his hand drop and stumbled a few steps closer to Midna and hugged her as well. "Do you know of ways to get rid of scars?" he quietly whispered, so quiet that Midna could barely hear his voice in her ear.

She let out a shaky sigh. "I'll have to remember, so give me some time to think of it." She placed a tentative hand on his back and winced as he flinched. "Sorry."

"I-it's fine." Linebeck pulled away and shuddered. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets, his eyes glued to the floor. "Link needs to get that sword. At this point I'm just wasting time. Hurry and take the damn thing already."

It would've been insulting that Linebeck didn't hug Link if they hadn't met roughly a month and a half ago and still had a rocky relationship.

Link undid the sword belt across his chest and took off the scabbard that Ganondorf had given them. He held it out. It looked like the sword would fit perfectly in it. Link walked up the small steps, buckling the scabbard back on. He stopped just in front of the sword. The tip of the pommel was as high as the middle of Link's abdomen, almost reaching to the bottom of his robotic sternum- it was a rather long sword, compounded by the fact that Link himself was rather short.

He glanced back at his friends. Midna gestured for him to take the sword. "Come on, we don't have all day. Take the sword. It belongs to you, after all."

"Come up here with me," Link managed to choke out. "You're all a part of this, too."

"Stage fright, eh?" Linebeck asked, grinning with a faint sense of enjoyment.

Still, the three of them joined Link up on the little island, peered down at the sword with them. Link felt especially short with the rest of them standing around him. Of course, he was small, roughly five-and-a-half feet tall, and the rest of the group were all over six feet tall. For a moment, staring down at the sword, Link was amused by the fact that the Hero of Hyrule was often very short.

Link exhaled slowly, emptying out his lungs, and wrapped his hands around the sword's grip. The metal was surprisingly warm, and the sword almost felt... friendly. The leather bands crisscrossing the metal were just as warm. It wasn't hot, it wasn't burning his hands, it was just pleasantly warm, like a gentle fire after a blizzard. Link drew in a calm breath, his eyelids fluttering. He tensed up and began to draw the sword from the pedestal- it was slow progress, and it took him quite a bit of strength to pull it up a few inches.

The sword hummed slightly, feeling like it was pulsating as it was slowly lifted out of the carved stone pedestal, welcoming the return of the hero.

Not a single word was spoken, and Link straightened his knees, standing stiffly as the sword was finally, fully free from the pedestal. He moved to brandish it and admire it but found that his limbs were locked in place. Each of the four of them let out a short gasp, and Link felt everything around him fall away.

Link felt as though he were falling, falling, but he was still dimly aware that he was standing still with the others- but his vision faded, and the rest of his senses faded out with it. It was like he was falling asleep. He felt an odd calm settle over him.

And then he felt that mental wall that had been locking away his past memories shatter, and a torrent of images, feelings, emotions- everything came flooding back in.

Please don't expect the next chapter to come out soon- it's going to be long and I need it to be as close to perfect as I can manage.

But I hope you're as excited for it as I am.