Chapter 6: Silent Reign of a King (PT2)

The Forest of Spirits stretched before them, seemingly endless. Towering trees, their branches weaving a thick canopy overhead, filtered the sunlight, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor below. Wildflowers and mushrooms peeked through the undergrowth, bathed in the shifting shafts of light that pierced the foliage. Crisp air swirled around them, carrying the melodic sound of chirping birds, rustling leaves, and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures

Amidst the serene forest, a lone figure dashed through the underbrush, weaving between the trees and foliage with urgent haste. Noah stumbled over roots and leapt over rocks, his breath ragged and his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He was a jarring sight against the tranquil backdrop, a lone, desperate figure racing through the otherwise tranquil expanse.

Wherever he ran, Noah's panic seemed to infect the very environment around him, disturbing the serenity of the woods. Leaves trembled on branches, startled birds took flight, grassland foxes grew wary, and the once-still air carried a palpable tension.

Noah's breaths came in raw, ragged gasps, yet his running retained a focused intensity. Despite contriving appearances and with fear gripping him by his balls, he hadn't plunged into the depths of hysteria or lost control of his emotions yet. His situation was dire, taken from his reality into a somewhat unfamiliar world, lacking guidance or aid. To make matters worse, the one individual who'd shown any willingness to assist was now consumed by Malice by some unknown method and actively pursuing him with murderous intent

His circumstances could have driven anyone to the brink of insanity. But Noah was far too rational for that, and most importantly he had no intention to die here. Noah's will to survive coursed through his veins, converting into the energy that propelled his movements and into the thoughts that would formulate a strategy within his mind.

Noah grabbed his Sheikah Slate from his utility belt and began flicking through it with urgency as he strategised his situation.

"King Rhoam has my only weapon, and my Sheikah Slate doesn't have any unlocked abilities. My offensive capabilities are practically non-existent. And who knows how long this body can keep going?" Noah cursed his situation

"…Worst of all."

An instinctive tremor shot through Noah, his senses scrambling to catch up. Before he could even process the source, a sharp sound ripped through the air - "On my right!" he cried out in warning. With a desperate lunge, he pivoted sharply and rolled, his momentum carrying him in the opposite direction.

Suddenly, a glint of silver erupted from the bushes ahead. Caught off guard, Noah braced himself as the axe sliced into his left side with a sickening crunch. The searing pain threatened to engulf him, Ignoring the blooming agony, he lurched forward, changing direction once more with a primal growl.

"He knows this forest better than me!" Noah's heart pounded with fear

Noah had been trapped in a relentless game of cat and mouse for the past thirty minutes. Every move he made felt as if King Rhoam anticipated it. Though the King hadn't directly attacked, he remained a constant presence, using feints and mind games to manipulate Noah's movement, always striking from a safe distance from somewhere Noah couldn't see.

By hiding himself, Noah had rarely been able to dodge any of King Rhoam's attacks and instead had to make judgement calls of the general direction of the next assault, in other words, he had been mainly relying on luck to navigate.

What Noah came to realise was that within Link's body, he possessed an inherent speed advantage over King Rhoam. As soon as Noah understood this he immediately reduced his speed moderately so that in an emergency he could exploit a sudden burst of speed catching King Rhoam off-guard, he had intended to keep this card close to his chest if Noah ever had the chance to retaliate or confront against King Rhoam.

Unfortunately with King Rhoam hiding he had lacked this chance, at first Noah thought that perhaps he was teleporting like a video game but upon closer investigation, this didn't make much sense.

However, King Rhoam's mastery of the Great Plateau frustrated Noah's plan. With nearly a century of familiarity, the King knew every nook and cranny, every shortcut and strategic path. Here, Noah was the hunted sheep, and King Rhoam was the relentless shepherd dog.

Suddenly, Noah's gaze fell upon the Sheikah Slate. A smile, small but determined, curved his lips as an idea sparked to life.

"I need to leave this forest," he murmured. "It's his hunting ground."

Stowing away the Sheikah Slate, Noah caught wind of another noise behind him. This time, instead of evading or altering his course to escape it, he decided to take a gamble and ran straight towards it. The looming shadow of Death's scythe hung heavy above him.

Noah's expression contorted into a grimace as he clenched his teeth and prepared himself, uncertain if his gamble would pay off. He steeled himself for the impending strike, but it never came. Instead, he felt a sharp pebble hitting his chest. Relief flooded him as he realised it was another feint. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Noah wasn't certain if it was safe to continue, but he was determined to leave the forest. While here, King Rhoam could hide and manipulate him at will. Once out of the forest, King Rhoam would be exposed, limiting his control and influence. The first step to getting out of here was escaping from this route that King Rhoam was setting him on.

The frequency and intensity of King Rhoam's attacks escalated dramatically as Noah neared the forest's edge. It was clear the King was desperate to prevent his escape.

Sprinting to the forest's edge Noah entered within King Rhoam's striking range of his axe while he still remained hidden. The swishing sound of the axe cutting through the air seemed to come from various points around Noah, a reminder he could very well die here.

Ducking and weaving, Noah narrowly evaded each blow, but the attacks grew unpredictable, leaving him progressively injured. With each near miss, his breaths became ragged, stamina waned. Sweat, mixed with blood from his earlier wound, trickled down his face and stomach. His limbs screamed in protest from the relentless evasion.

King Rhoam had become a master of camouflage, launching his assaults from unseen positions within the dense forest. Despite Noah's desperate attempts to outrun the danger, the King's pursuit never faltered. The forest thinned, the edge drawing near, yet the attacks continued, growing eerily accurate.

As the forest thinned, King Rhoam's attacks became more ferocious, more unforgiving. A glancing blow caught Noah's arm, causing a searing pain that forced a cry of agony from his lips. Despite his determination, Noah could feel his movements slowing, his body succumbing to exhaustion and accumulating injuries.

But as the forest thinned and freedom glimmered ahead, the attacks abruptly ceased. A brief respite. A cruel tease. For there, emerging from the foliage, stood King Rhoam, blocking his escape.

Noah's anger flared as he saw the easy, relaxed expression on King Rhoam's face. It was as if the king was enjoying himself, toying with Noah like a cat with a mouse.

'That bearded bastard… he's not even taking this seriously.' Up to this point Noah didn't understand King Rhoam's methods, with his abilities, he could have killed Noah with ease at any time. But instead, he was drawing out the fight.

Perhaps Noah's suffering was amusing to him, at any rate, Noah refused to give King Rhoam the satisfaction of seeing him break.

"Stand back!" Noah yelled, brandishing the Sheikah Slate like a weapon. Urgency flashed in his eyes, and his voice trembled as he pointed the slate at King Rhoam. "I won't hesitate to use this against you!"

In response to Noah's threat, King Rhoam froze. For the first time since their fight began, his relaxed demeanour faltered. A flicker of suspicion and scepticism crossed his features as his gaze fell upon the Sheikah Slate.

"Ah, the Sheikah Slate," King Rhoam remarked, his voice carrying an air of authority. "A bold move," he mused, his tone unwavering. "But we both know its current state."

Noah's heart raced. He couldn't afford to falter now.

"You think so?" Noah countered, his voice steady, even bold despite his anxiety. "Have you forgotten its history? This belonged to Princess Zelda, your daughter. She treasured it like a second heart. Do you truly believe she'd leave the chosen hero defenceless in a random cave? Surely as a King, you know the capability of this device."

The crack in King Rhoam's expression splintered into anger, evident in the visible shift in his visage. Malice radiated from his eyes, his veins pulsating with a disturbing red glow as his grip on the axe tightened ferociously. "Who are you?" His voice demanded, "What do you know about my daughter?"

Noah held the Sheikah Slate aloft, its blue glow flickering against his determined face. "That isn't important right now, what is important is this." he declared, pointing the device towards King Rhoam. "I can use magnesis to turn your own weapon against you or freeze you in place with this upgraded stasis. Or maybe I'll just trigger some explosives with a remote bomb?" His voice was a blend of defiance and desperation, a bluff to mask his growing fear.

King Rhoam remained silent, his gaze fixed on Noah, unwavering. Perhaps sensing the genuine threat in Noah's words, his posture tightened, alertness replacing his earlier relaxed demeanour. The playful glint in his eyes was gone.

King Rhoam chuckled, a cold sound that sent shivers down Noah's spine. "Resourcefulness is commendable, boy," he acknowledged, his voice dripping with condescension. "But if you could utilise the abilities you speak of, you already would have. Your bluff is transparent."

Noah's face hardened. "Unlike you, I am hesitant to take another life," he countered, holding the Sheikah Slate steady. "And frankly, I would rather not attack the man who offered me hospitality, a meal, and a place to rest." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "King Rhoam, those words you spoke last night... what happened to that man? The one who spoke of compassion and understanding?"

King Rhoam's voice turned hollow, echoing with despair. "Those were the ramblings of a deluded old man," he conceded, his head hung low. "One who didn't see the situation for how it truly was. Useless... and pointless. There's no hope to save my daughter, and my kingdom has long been destroyed... and the only hope there was has been crushed."

Noah felt some slight empathy for the king, his bravado momentarily waning. "Yeah," he murmured, pulling his hands in an aggressive motion, more out of frustration than aggression. "I've had my fair share of that as well."

His voice hardened as he declared, "Then I suppose you leave me no choice."

"Activate!" Noah roared, brandishing the Sheikah Slate towards King Rhoam while flinging his hand in a throwing motion.

King Rhoam's years of rigorous training and countless battles had honed his instincts. He recognised the gesture instantly, yet unlike Noah in similar situations, he remained calm and collected. Despite the impending threat of the Sheikah Slate, King Rhoam stood his ground, his composure unwavering in the face of danger.

As he braced himself, a small pebble suddenly struck his axe, the sharp impact surprising him momentarily. He had expected an energy blast or something equally mysterious, an attack that never materialised. Recognising Noah's ruse, King Rhoam stayed vigilant, his focus shifting momentarily before returning to his opponent.

Seizing this fleeting opportunity, Noah darted forward, closing the distance between them.

King Rhoam, with his seasoned warrior's eye, saw Noah's movement and understood the threat. He responded swiftly, swinging his axe in a powerful arc.

Undeterred, Noah continued his charge, seemingly oblivious to the impending blow. Yet, just as King Rhoam believed his attack would connect, Noah unleashed the burst of speed he had been holding in reserve.

With a burst of raw power, Noah blurred into motion, darting past King Rhoam with astonishing speed. The king, caught off guard by the unexpected burst of agility, could only stare as Noah vanished before his eyes, only to reappear several paces away in a blink.

Stunned, King Rhoam afraid of a counterattack protected himself by stepping back and turning swiftly to track Noah's movement. However, by the time Rhoam pivoted, Noah was already several paces away, having covered a significant distance exiting the Forest of Spirits in the blink of an eye.

Noah dashed ahead, struggling to maintain his balance as he moved. His intent to deceive King Rhoam with this sudden burst of speed worked, yet the truth was that he had never before moved at such velocity in his former body. The consequence of such an action meant that he didn't know how to control himself and so the threat of tripping over himself was real, and to do so with King Rhoam undoubtfully chasing him would mean his death.

Noah looked behind him to see that King Rhoam hadn't given up on his pursuit and instead followed behind Noah at a close pace, Noah was faster he knew this, but he couldn't afford to screw up this next part. Moving his gaze away from King Rhoam and ahead the two were approaching a large open space with a towering rock formation in the centre, surrounded by several camps of Bokoblin's.

'Was there a Bokoblin camp here last time?' Noah shaked his head, he couldn't afford to keep being surprised by chances, Afterall he had to focus.

As they neared the encampment, a blue Bokoblin Archer stationed atop a watchtower spotted them and hastily sounded the horn, alerting the entire grounds to their presence.

The piercing sound of the horn echoed through the camp, swiftly followed by an echo of similarly fashioned horns from other watchtowers scattered around the area, relaying the alarm across the encampment.

Without hesitation, the archer aimed at Noah the closest intruder, taking careful aim before releasing an arrow with impressive speed. Noah, having first-hand experience of the strength of a Bokoblin didn't underestimate the Archer and veered onto an angle, swiftly voiding the first initial shot and continued running forward.

Despite his agility, Noah couldn't evade every projectile. A volley of arrows from the lagging other archer towers flew in his direction, and one found its mark, piercing his shoulder. The searing pain nearly toppled him, but he gritted his teeth, managing to endure it as he pushed through and entered the heart of the Bokoblin camp.

Noah weaved through the Bokoblin camp, his eyes darting between the various Bokoblin's blue, red, and the occasional black ones with each engrossed in their frenzied activity. The camp had erupted into a chaotic scene with Bokoblin's scrambling to arm themselves, rousing others from slumber, and some even taking advantage of the chaos to pilfer food.

Amid the chaotic scene, a few quick-witted Bokoblin's attempted to attack Noah, but his agile manoeuvres and swift rolls left their attacks futile. His movements were a puzzle to the unintelligent creatures; where King Rhoam might have found Noah's rolls predictable and countable, the Bokoblin found them confusing and impossible to follow.

'King Rhoam was definitely a monster of his own…' Noah thought

The chaos wasn't just surrounding Noah, King Rhoam wasn't as lucky as Noah as by the time he entered the camp the Bokoblins were mainly organised and switched targets from Noah to King Rhoam and this time were more prepared preventing King Rhoam from dashing into the camp nearly unimpeded.

Hearing the clashing and agonising screams of Bokoblin's from behind, Noah shuttered realising the hell he's brought upon this camp. Putting away the thought Noah diverted from his path to grab a 'Boko Club' and 'Boko Shield' which had been ignored in the ensuing panic.

The sight of King Rhoam amidst the Bokoblin horde was a terrifying spectacle. He moved with the grace of a predator, his axe a blur of silver and crimson. Each swing brought the brutal sound of bone crunching and flesh tearing. Despite their initial fear, the Bokoblins, confident in their numbers rallied. They swarmed around King Rhoam, their guttural screams filling the air.

Noah watched in morbid fascination as Rhoam fought like a man possessed. His eyes, once filled with warmth and kindness, now burned with a cold, unquenchable rage. He was a whirlwind of destruction, leaving a trail of carnage in his wake.

But even for King Rhoam, the overwhelming number of enemies proved too much. He was soon surrounded, his movements hampered by the sheer mass of Bokoblin's. They clawed at him, bit him, and stabbed him with their crude weapons. His clothes were battered and stained with the blood of his enemies and his own.

Noah felt the pain of guilt. He had unleashed this monster into the camp and in doing so condemned these creatures to a gruesome fate. The battle raged around King Rhoam, a maelstrom of violence and suffering.

Suddenly, Noah noticed a lone Bokoblin archer standing atop a tower, its gaze fixed on King aiming his bow Rhoam. Despite the situation, Noah couldn't allow King Rhoam to die here, not without answers and so in frustration and in a desperate act, Noah grabbed a discarded Boko Club and hurled it with all his might.

The club flew through the air, a dark streak against the blood-soaked sky. It struck the archer true, sending it tumbling from its perch. The tower groaned and creaked, then collapsed with a deafening crash, burying several Bokoblin's beneath its rubble.

The distraction was enough. Rhoam seized the opportunity, with his movement granted to him once again King Rhoam leapt into the air and slammed his corrupted axe into the ground. The subsequent shockwave and crater ripped through the enemies surrounding him Bokoblin's flying in all directions.

As the dust settled, Noah saw Rhoam standing amidst the carnage, his body covered in wounds, his clothes tattered. He looked like a broken man, yet his eyes still burned with a fierce intensity.

He turned towards Noah, his gaze cold and unforgiving. At that moment, Noah knew those eyes, it was the same that Noah had worn before, of helplessness and sorrow.

'Hypocrite…' With a heavy heart, Noah turned and fled, scrambling up the rock formation. He spotted a gap and dropped into it, his heart pounding in his chest.