Chapter 13: Unexpected Guests

The ground trembled subtly with each pounding stride of the Moblin, its fiery eyes locked on Noah. Noah stood rooted to the ground, not in defiance, but in sheer, paralysing fear as an unsettling calm washed over him despite the terror gnawing at his insides. Noah's breath hitched, each inhale shallow and uneven, the Traveller's sword trembling precariously in his grasp. Panic threatened to consume him, the familiar chill of fear sending shivers down his spine.

"Do I..." his voice was a dry rasp, barely audible even to his own ears, "have to fight that thing?"

Fighting the Moblin wasn't the plan. His actions of freeing the creature from its chains were an impulsive decision out of desperation to halt the carriage. He hadn't given any thought to how to deal with the creature afterward, and now the consequences of his impulsiveness were walking ominously toward him.

As Noah gritted his teeth in fear, a dangerous thought emerged, "I can just escape, "a familiar aspect of his original strategy. With his agility Noah was confident that he could escape in the sanctuary that the darkness offered, beckoning him to leave the Moblin and himself behind. It was the easiest route, the path paved with self-preservation.

'The only issue with that…'

Noah's terrified gaze quickly drifted to the toppled carriage. It was challenging to discern in the dark, yet the silence of the trapped individuals inside spoke volumes. Were they alive? Trapped? Unconscious? He couldn't tell. The back door, stubbornly shut, however indicated they were still trapped.

As he bit harder into his lips, blood began to trickle as Noah had to make a split-second decision, protect them or run? It was a moral quandary, and although Noah was human and loathed the idea of leaving people to perish, the instinct of self-preservation screamed at him to prioritize his own safety.

After all, he might bear a tad bit of responsibility for the current predicament, but wouldn't their fate of succumbing to a monster, be the same whether he intervened or not? If anything he Moblin's kill might even be swifter than the Bokoblin's', less cruel perhaps, but equally final.

He wouldn't win this fight. He knew it in his bones, despite his best efforts. The sheer bulk of the Moblin, its monstrous strength, were a terrifying testament to its power. Even if he poured every ounce of his being into it, victory would be as elusive as a wisp of smoke.

Eyes squeezed shut, Noah battled the tempest raging within. Fear, despair, and a flicker of desperate hope clawed at him, tearing at the tattered fabric of his resolve. Then, slowly, like the first rays of dawn pushing back the darkness, a chilling resolve settled over him. He spun, the darkness beckoning like a predator's maw, promising oblivion alongside escape.

"Forgive me!" The hoarse cry clawed from his throat, ripped out by the guilt gnawing at his heels alongside the Moblin's approaching thuds. But just before the light of the lantern disappeared from his body, Noah was jerked backward. Hours of rigorous training with King Rhoam had honed his reflexes. Though unexpected, Noah prevented himself from falling to the ground, executing a backflip to stable ground.

However, Noah's eyes widened in surprise as he attempted to move again.

'I… can't move my legs?!' Noah looked down at his trembling legs, commanding them to move several times. To his dismay, they refused to obey, remaining still as if bound by an unseen force. Panic set in like a wildfire, consuming him as the Moblin was fast approaching, its massive arm swinging down like a battering ram.

Rolling with the grace of a seasoned acrobat… or a punching bag thanks to countless hours of gruelling practice with King Rhoam, he narrowly escaped its grasp, the wind whistling past his ear as the creature's claws raked the air where he had been a moment before.

But as he scrambled to his feet, the same terrifying paralysis gripped his legs. It was as if an invisible chain bound him to the spot, the further he moved away, the stronger it became.

Was the guilt of leaving the trapped humans, anchoring him to the scene? Fear perhaps? Numerous potential answers raced through Noah's mind, but the Moblin's approach heightened his urgency, leaving Noah with a troubling realization that he had no time to figure it out.

Pushing aside the rising panic threatening to engulf him, Noah forced himself to focus. Distraction was a luxury he couldn't afford; the Moblin was closing in. It swung its massive arm downward in an attempt to grasp him. Swiftly rolling out of its reach under its legs, Noah managed to escape its clutches, running behind it.

As fear continued to course through his veins, Noah steadied his breathing and analysed the situation. Control over his emotions was paramount. The frustrated Moblin dashed towards him, but its attempts were futile as Noah continued to be elusive, deftly dodging its attacks.

'I don't need to defeat it; I just need to buy time until the prisoners escape,' Noah thought to himself, formulating a strategy amidst the chaos.

Gripping his traveler's sword, he lunged, the blade finding purchase in the Moblin's flesh drawing blood however a frown quickly became etched onto Noah's face as the Moblin's hide shrugged off the shallow wound. Enraged, the Moblin slammed into Noah, sending him sprawling across the dusty road.

Stars danced before Noah's vision as he was recovering from the impact, he quickly found himself under relentless assault. The Moblin, fist raised, sought to pummel him into submission. His quick reflexes allowed him to raise his sword, blocking the strikes, but the pressure was overwhelming. In the struggle, a cold rationality seeped into Noah's consciousness. This world bends the video games rules into a realistic setting, for a creature to have this much strength and speed there had to be some kind of flaw or weakness he could exploit, but where?

The Moblin swung again, and with a horrifying crack, Noah felt his body groaning under the pressure. Yet, he held his ground, his eyes locking onto a detail - the creature's other arm, twitching slightly to his right.

"Damn it!" he cursed, dropping to the ground as a razor-sharp claw grazed his cheek. With a desperate roll, he evaded the Moblin's swiping arm, but his heart raced. He underestimated the creature's agility; it spun with surprising speed, its massive hand reaching for him.

Noah fought, muscles straining and burning against the Moblin's vice-like grip. Panic clawed at his throat, the metallic tang of fear thick in his mouth. The creature's fetid breath washed over him, carrying the stench of decaying flesh and sadistic glee.

The Moblin squeezed tighter, its knuckles pressing into the soft flesh of Noah's ribs. Agony, sharp and white-hot, lanced through him, stealing the air from his lungs. His vision swam, blurring the edges of the monster's triumphant grin. Each rasping breath was a struggle, punctuated by the sickening pop of bone yielding under monstrous strength.

Time seemed to warp and stretch. He could feel his consciousness slipping, the world shrinking to a tunnel of pain and suffocating darkness. His limbs thrashed uselessly, desperate pleas choked back by the pressure constricting his throat.

Before the Moblin could crush Noah completely, an arrow, loosed from unseen hands, pierced the Moblin's eye. The creature shrieked, releasing Noah in a flurry of confusion. He stumbled back, chest heaving, his gaze darting towards the carriage.

All of the Bokoblin escorts had been killed, either by him or the Moblin so Noah assumed one of the humasn inside had been responsible for his life-saving arrow, although he wasn't sure how they got their hands on a bow he was undeniably grateful.

'I suppose what goes around, comes around,' Noah thought, acknowledging the unpredictable turns of fate. However, he had no time to waste. Recovering himself from the ground Noah was busy assessing the injured Moblin, his Traveller's Sword was inadequate to leave any serious injuries on its body, which left him with not many options.

Recognising the Moblin's massive muscles and height a sudden realisation flashed to Noah 'This world bends the game into a realistic setting… which means his weight must be supported to keep it up…'

Noah eyes flashed as he built his potential strategy. Ignoring the pain in his chest, he ran towards his dropped traveller's sword before the Moblin recovered.

The approaching figure prompted the Moblin to attempt a hasty swipe, but Noah's agility prevailed. Diving under the Moblin's arm, he picked up his sword and rolled beneath the bellowing creature.

Positioning his sword, Noah swiped the tendons on the Moblin's leg. Immediately, the creature howled in pain as its right leg buckled, no longer supporting its massive weight. Ruthlessly continuing the assault Noah pressed his advantage, slicing the other leg, sending the hulking creature crashing to the ground.

Emerging from the shadows on the Moblin's right, adrenaline masking the agony. The Moblin swiped its remaining arm, desperation etched on its face. But Noah was faster. He leaped over the attack, the Moblin's claws dug into Noah's leg, but undeterred Noah continued forward, jumping over the other arm and arriving at the creature's head.

Positioning his sword above, Noah dug it into the Moblin's skull. Unlike the Bokoblin's, this beast refused to die easily. It thrashed and clawed, pain fuelling its primal rage. But Noah gritted his teeth, driving the blade deeper, until finally, the creature fell silent.

It was dead.

As the silence descended, the weight of his actions crushed him. Images of the fate of the Blue Bokoblin flashed in his mind, fuelling a fresh wave of panic of how close to death he was. He collapsed, gasping for breath, the quietude unbearable.

"No loot? No experience? No reward?" He chuckled humourlessly, bitterness filling his mouth. He expected nothing, yet the lack of recognition stung. "The price of my recklessness, I suppose," he thought, disappointment heavy in his chest.

'So much for not defeating the enemy and just buying time'

Noah's gaze, heavy-lidded and shadowed with exhaustion, dragged towards the silent carriage. The door remained obstinately shut, mirroring the growing sense of dread in his gut.

His initial relief over not defeating the Moblin curdled into suspicion. Perhaps buying time hadn't been enough. Perhaps... they weren't there to be saved.

He quickly refuted this, Afterall someone had shot that arrow.

With a groan that betrayed the mask of stoicism he plastered on, Noah pushed himself upright. Each movement sent fresh waves of pain radiating through his battered body, but adrenaline still hummed in his veins, urging him forward.

He stumbled towards the carriage, every step echoing hollowly in the oppressive silence. Reaching the door, he strained his ear, willing some sound, some sign of life from within. Nothing. Panic gnawed at the edges of his mind, but he pushed it down, focusing on the simple wooden lock securing the door.

His fingers, slick with sweat and grime, fumbled with the traveller's sword. Using the hilt, he pried at the lock, the metal groaning in protest. Each scrape amplified the thudding of his heart, each creak a hammer blow to his fading hope.

Finally, with a satisfying snap, the lock yielded. Noah, his hand trembling more from nervous anticipation than fatigue, with trembling hands, he pushed the door open, his voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil within. "Have no fear! I have slain the villainous creatures of malice and have saved you!"

But his triumphant declaration died in his throat. The interior of the carriage was barren, save for a gaping hole in the ceiling, large enough for several people to crawl through. The silence pressed in on him, broken only by the mournful sigh of the wind. A lone crow cawed in the distance, its harsh cry echoing his own desolate emptiness.

"...Was I left behind?" he finally whispered, a humourless smile twisting his lips. The question hung heavy in the air, unanswered, mirroring the vast emptiness that stretched before him.

Having searched around the immediate area Noah failed to find any traces of the prisoners inside the carriage, forgoing anymore effort primarily because he was exhausted Noah walked back to the three Bokoblin's and Moblin to loot their corpses.

'Survival of the fittest' Noah decided. Noah had no need for their weapons, deciding that although the traveller's sword was blunt it was still more useful than the clubs, rather he was more interested in finding the Boko Bow but just like the prisoners, it had magically disappeared.

On the corpses of the Bokoblin's Noah grabbed the armour the Blue Bokoblin that had whipped the Moblin had equipped, although it didn't fit his size Noah thought maybe he could alter it somehow later.

Still recoiling from nearly being crushed to death from the Moblin, Noah understood the importance of armour.

Noah looked in the distance to where he had made camp at the Outpost Ruins, he contemplated packing up his things and leaving now worried that the scene here would attract attention since he was so close-by but with the night coming to end soon, he prioritised getting some sleep before travelling again.

With a sigh, Noah trudged back to the Outpost Ruins, the weight of his near-death experience heavier than his meager loot. "Next time," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else, "I'm minding my own business."

He collapsed next to his sleeping bag, wincing as he pulled up his pant leg to reveal a gruesome gash. It bled freely, the throbbing pain intensifying as adrenaline's numbing effects faded. A grim relief washed over him. If a simple swipe could inflict this much damage, he didn't dare imagine what a full-blown attack with his reflexes dulled would have been like.

With a grimace, Noah fished out some basic bandages from his meager spoils and clumsily wrapped them around the wound. He knew the importance of disinfection, but lacked the necessary supplies. He briefly considered King Rhoam's journal, wondering if it mentioned any natural remedies, but exhaustion quickly won over curiosity. He'd deal with it in the morning.

As he drifted off to sleep, a single thought echoed in his mind: he was lucky to be alive.

With the Shrine of Resurrection acting as a silent sentinel behind him, Noah stood bathed in the ethereal glow of dawn standing towards the cliffside that he found himself at not long after waking up in the Kingdom of Hyrule. Standing across from him in the distant horizon was Hyrule Castle, its spires and towers gleaming like forgotten promises in the first kiss of sunlight.

A melancholic beauty clung to the land, Rolling plains, emerald green and sun-dappled, unfurl beneath a cerulean sky where fluffy clouds drift like cotton castles. Majestic mountains, their peaks capped with perpetual snow, pierce the heavens. Crystal-clear rivers ribbon through the land, their waters tinkling over smooth stones and cascading into hidden waterfalls that shimmer like scattered diamonds.

Noah felt...strange. Unmoored. His body moved with an unfamiliar weightlessness, his thoughts disjointed and hazy. It was as if he were observing himself from afar, a mere puppet on strings manipulated by an unseen hand.

Drawn by an invisible force, he drifted towards the cliff edge. The wind whipped at his hair, carrying the scent of wildflowers and damp earth. Below, the ground plunged away, a dizzying display of greens and browns. He should have felt fear, the primal instinct to recoil from the fall. But there was only a curious emptiness, a serene detachment from the impending fall.

"…how beautiful." Noah spoke and with a single, almost hypnotised step, he walked off the edge.

There was no rush of wind, no scream tearing from his throat. He simply descended, the world slowing to a crawl. The castle grew larger, its details sharpening into focus - chipped gargoyles, moss-covered walls, a lone flag flapping defiantly in the breeze.

Noah jolted awake, ripped from his nightmare by a bone-jarring impact with the ground. He scrambled to his feet, heart pounding, only to be met with the cold steel of a knife at his throat.

"Don't even twitch, unless you want to keep your pretty throat," a harsh voice hissed in his ear.

Noah's eyes darted around, still disoriented from the dream. Two figures loomed over him, their faces obscured by the twilight gloom. One, a girl with fiery brown hair and a glint of defiance in her brown eyes, held a sharp dagger mere inches from his skin. The other, a blonde with a wary posture and a bow aimed steadily at his chest, exuded an air of quiet tension.

In the uneasy silence that followed, Noah couldn't resist a chuckle, the nervous tremor evident in his voice. "Would it surprise you if I said this wasn't the first time, I've been woken up like this?" he rasped, attempting to lighten the mood.

The two girls remained unamused, especially the knife-wielding one, who narrowed her eyes suspiciously. As Noah recognized the duo, a sense of irony washed over him. "As the person who quite literally saved your lives, shouldn't I be entitled to a bit of goodwill?"

While the faces of the two girls didn't ring any bells for Noah, the distinctive chestnut curls of the one brandishing the knife and her voice triggered a spark of recognition. She was the same person who had warned him about the nearby monster camp. The other girl, however, remained an unfamiliar face in his memory.

"That 'good-will' is the only reason I haven't carved you up already," she growled, her voice tight with suspicion.

"Hey, this area's dangerous, right?" Noah said calmly, holding his hands up in surrender. "Robbing me is kinda like killing me, wouldn't you say? How about we share a meal and talk this out like civilised people?"

"Sharing bread with a cultist," the chestnut girl interjected, her voice laced with disgust. "I'd rather take my chances against that Bokoblin camp again."

Noah blinked, frowning. "Cultist? What cult are you talking about?"

Noah's gaze drifted to the blond-haired girl standing nearby aiming her Boko Bow at him, and he followed her gaze right to the golden ring currently on his finger.

Noah's stomach dropped like a stone as he took a deep breath, forcing himself to think calmly. "If I was to say this was one big misunderstanding, would you believe me?"

"That depends on what you say, but I'd be warned because if I don't like what I hear it'll be your last words."

His voice was carefully neutral, masking the rising panic within. "Ah, this little thing? I found it on The Great Plateau, near the Temple of Time. Some Bokoblin's were scavenging a body

"Grave robber?" the blonde asked, her voice edged with accusation.

"No!" Noah protested, wincing as the dagger pressed closer. "There was no grave, just... a corpse. I swear!"

The blonde looked at him nervously, unconvinced. "Does that really make it better...?"

Noah swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing further argument would only worsen the situation. He simply shrugged; resignation etched on his face.

The brown-haired girl let out a humourless laugh. "The Great Plateau? You know the King's curse makes it a death trap for anyone who enters, right?"

'King's curse... is that supposed to be related to King Rhoam?' Noah's thoughts dragged.

"I... I didn't know," Noah stammered, his mind racing. "My family, we've lived there for generations. Near Mount Hylia,by the springs. We never encountered no curse."

As much as Noah didn't enjoy it, he had little choice but to twist his words into a believable story. He wasn't good at making things up, but life on the run had forced him to become a master of half-truths. Leaving King Rhoam's side had thrown him into a world he barely knew, and he needed a made-up past to avoid trouble. He needed a background that justified his lack of understanding of the world in a believable sense, and this was the best he could come up with. He intended to tell the truth of his circumstances to those who needed to hear it, but for everyone else Noah was to be an abandoned child ignorant of the ways of the world.

The two girls exchanged glances; their expressions unreadable.

"So why have you left?" She still asked still not fully convinced

Noah hesitated, avoiding their eyes. "My family and I ran into a situation that wasn't much different from yours," he muttered, his voice heavy. "Except no prisoners. After that I decided to leave The Great Plateau."

The silence stretched, thick with tension and uncertainty. Finally, the blonde placed a hand on the other girl's shoulder, her voice barely a whisper. "Neph, if he were one of them..." she trailed off, her gaze flickering meaningfully to the ring. "...he wouldn't have risked his life for us."

After few moments of silence which felt like an eternity, Neph slowly lowered the knife, her gaze locking with Noah's. He held his breath, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade.

Finally, she sighed. "Fine. But one wrong move, and you're done."

Noah cautiously sat up, gingerly touching the throbbing wound on his neck. Anger simmered beneath the surface, but he knew arguing was futile. He was outnumbered and outmatched.

"…thank you for saving us." The blonde girl spoke cautiously, lowering her bow.

'At least one of them seemed nice' Noah mused

He gestured towards the limp form of a grassland fox nearby, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hungry?" he asked, already knowing this would be a longer night than he ever anticipated.