Chapter 17: The Wall's Maw (PT1)
The flickering fire cast long, distorted shadows across the survivors' faces, etching deep lines of exhaustion upon them. Christa, her face slowly regaining its lost colour, knelt in prayer before a makeshift shrine constructed from scavenged branches and draped with tattered cloth. Beads of sweat clung to her brow despite the cool night air. Her hands, once trembling uncontrollably, now clasped tightly in devotion, a silent plea for solace whispering from her lips.
Neph, in stark contrast, sat rigidly opposite her, her gaze fixed intently on the towering Wall that loomed in the distance like a monolithic titan. Her expression, a mask of barely contained fury, seemed to flicker in the firelight like the flames themselves. The remnants of battle clung to her in the form of bandages wrapped around her injuries
Noah, however, remained apart as a solitary figure leaning against the rough bark of a nearby tree. His eyes, devoid of their usual spark, were fixated on the empty scabbard clutched tightly in his hand. Its worn leather mocked him with its hollowness, a gaping wound mirroring the one that had opened in his spirit. Their injuries, though painful, were not critical enough to waste her limited energy
Neph's gaze would occasionally drift towards him, a flicker of something akin to disappointment, or perhaps even anger, crossing her features before hardening back into stoicism. Whether it was judgment or a silent question, Noah couldn't bring himself to care.
He found himself numb, the bitter taste of defeat clinging to his tongue like a metallic aftertaste. His mind was a battlefield itself, replaying the harrowing encounter with the seaweed monster over and over again. The scenes weren't just tactical analysis; they were a relentless torture, dissecting every decision, searching for the pivotal moment where things could have gone differently.
'If only I hadn't been so scared,' Noah thought, the words aimlessly echoing in the empty space of his mind. 'If only I had used Magnesis to retrieve my Traveller's Sword.'
The empty scabbard felt like a searing accusation in his hand, a constant reminder of his perceived inadequacy. A sob caught in his throat, a desperate plea trapped and voiceless.
Noah had never been truly defeated. Sure, he'd faced setbacks, close calls, and moments of doubt. But he'd always emerged victorious in some way. This, however, was different. It wasn't just the physical toll of the battle, the throbbing ache in his muscles and the ever-present sting of his wounds. He was adrift in a sea of unfamiliar emotions – a cocktail of grief, self-doubt, and a simmering anger he couldn't quite place. The weight of defeat was a foreign burden, heavy and suffocating. He didn't know how to grapple with it.
Yet, the crushing defeat paled in comparison to the chilling realization that he had noticed. The existence of the lake monster was threatening to shatter the fragile illusion of control he'd clung to since his arrival in Hyrule. Whatever the creature is, it was unlike anything he'd remembered from the game, it also proved that there were far more variables to this reality than he had ever anticipated.
Noah had always believed he was capable enough with the sword, King Rhoam had made sure of that. He had perhaps grown arrogant, even believing his skills were on par with, or even surpassing, others like Neph.
But his recent encounter made him painfully aware that he couldn't have been more wrong.
Noah wasn't skilled with a sword, not in the truest sense. In retrospect, he realised he had merely known where the enemies would attack. He knew their strengths, weaknesses, and attack patterns. With his foresight, all Noah had to do was remember the game, rely on the inherent stamina and reaction speed of the Hero he embodied, and the pieces would fall into place. His skills had nothing to do with it.
He was essentially a cheat. Noah's arsenal of borrowed knowledge from the game gave him the subconscious thought he was invincible in this new world, that he could do anything. But in actuality, all it did was mask his lack of true skill.
Against monsters he wasn't familiar with, this borrowed knowledge was rendered useless. He wouldn't be able to dodge an attack he couldn't anticipate, wouldn't be able to exploit weaknesses he didn't know existed. He was just a young man from Earth, wearing the skin of a legendary hero.
The confidence he'd cultivated had crumbled, exposing the raw truth beneath – he had been a fraud, a mere pretender masquerading as a skilled warrior. The game was changing, the scales tipping against his favour, and he was left facing the terrifying reality of his own inadequacy. He squeezed the scabbard harder, the leather digging into his palm.
Unknowing of his inner turmoil, Neph's voice cut through the tense silence. "We're all exhausted, but we'll press on at dawn. There's no other choice."
Noah's gaze briefly flickered to her; how could she still insist on passing through the Wall? As his gazes changed to the tall wooden wall with fire burning brightly above Noah became fearful
'What if...' his fears ran wild. 'What if something else I don't know about is on the other side? Another horror I'm not equipped to face?'
The weight of his recent defeat pressed heavily upon him destroying his confidence, eventually, his own inadequacies let slip from his mind.
"Do we... really need to go through The Wall?" he finally managed, his voice a mere whisper.
Both Christa and Neph swivelled towards him. Christa's eyes held a well of concern and empathy, while Neph's gaze was guarded, a flicker of icy wariness flitting across her features.
"There's no other path to reach the Eastern Region in time," Neph said carefully, her voice firm despite the tremor in Noah's own. "They need a warning."
"When is the next Blood Moon?" Noah asked, a sliver of hope flickering in his voice. Perhaps they had more time to prepare themselves.
"Within the fortnight," Christa answered gently, despite dousing his hopes. "There's no precise timing, but it usually falls around then."
"I understand," Noah replied, his voice heavy with a newfound depression. "It's not that I'm ungrateful, but... my faith in our survival has taken a significant blow, to put it mildly."
Hearing his doubt's Christa spoke up. "Do you know, Noah," she began, her voice soft yet filled with conviction, "what our greatest strength is as humans?"
Noah turned his gaze to her, a spark of curiosity igniting within him.
"It's our intelligence," Christa continued, a small smile gracing her lips. "Monsters rely on instinct, brute force, and predictable tactics. They can't strategize, coordinate, or adapt. That's what allows us to vanquish them, even when we're physically weaker."
Sometimes Noah hated his rationality, even on the brink of falling apart mentally he could still acknowledge Christa's words. It was true. If the monsters he'd faced so far had possessed any real intelligence, they would have adapted and changed their attack patterns or exploited his weaknesses. He shuddered, realizing how close he'd come to death on several occasions with his advantage.
"We've used our intelligence, a gift bestowed upon us by the Goddess, to rise above these creatures," Christa continued, a new thought taking root in her mind. "But what if they evolve? What if they learn to do the very things that give us the edge?"
A flicker of worry crossed Neph's face, but her voice remained steady as she picked off where Christa had stopped. "Then we face a new threat, one that may be far more formidable to overcome. But even so," she continued, her gaze locking with Noah's, "journeying through the Wall is a risk we must undertake. The Eastern Region falling… the consequences for all of Hyrule would be disastrous."
Christa's gentle demeanour and Neph's unwavering resolve did little to ease the knot of fear twisting in his gut.
"Look," Noah finally choked out, his voice barely a whisper. "I get it. The Blood Moon. The Eastern Region. We gotta warn them. But honestly? Our chances of surviving the Wall, let alone whatever's beyond it, are slimmer than a malnourished Bokoblin."
He slammed his fist onto the dirt, sending a spray of embers scattering. Frustration, not heroism, fuelling his outburst.
"We're talking about a giant stronghold in the middle of nowhere, guarded by who knows what! And us? We've got a healer who can soothe a scrape and a warrior so badass she uses a glorified twig to hunt deer!"
He glared at Neph, daring her to contradict him. But Neph simply raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something akin to amusement playing on her lips.
"You're not wrong," she conceded, her voice devoid of the usual urgency. "The Wall is a formidable challenge. But here's the thing, Noah," she leaned forward, her gaze locking with his, "we don't have a choice. This isn't about some grand quest or saving the world. It's about survival."
Noah scoffed. "Survival? We've been surviving just fine so far, haven't we?"
"Barely," Christa interjected softly. "And with each passing day, the Blood Moon draws closer. When it arrives, the monsters will be stronger, faster, more relentless. The longer we stay put, the less likely we are to survive, let alone reach the Eastern Region."
A chilling silence descended upon them. Noah may not properly understand the truth in Christa's words, but he wasn't stupid enough to underestimate them. He may not be a hero, driven by some noble cause, but he wasn't stupid either. He craved survival, a sliver of normalcy in this crazy world.
"And don't forget your deal." Neph added confidently.
He clenched his jaw, a spark of defiance igniting within him. "Fine," he grumbled. "But don't expect any heroics from me. I'm just looking out for my own skin. And if that means using you two as bait every once in a while, well, that's the price of my cooperation."
Neph let out a short, humourless laugh. "Deal," she said, her eyes glinting with a hint of something akin to respect. "Just try not to trip over your own feet and get eaten first."
Silence settled heavily once more. Noah attempted to sleep, but as always it remained elusive. The tension that had crackled between them during their first meeting simmered just beneath the surface, although Noah was having more trouble sleeping these days anyway.
As the pre-dawn light chased away the last traces of night dew, the trio stirred. Neph stretched her muscles, loosening up for the journey ahead. Christa sat in quiet meditation, seeking solace and strength. Noah, however, stared disconsolately at the Boko Spear clutched in his hand, a frown creasing his brow.
Swordsmanship was his only skill, his only trained expertise by King Rhoam. This spear, unfamiliar and awkward, felt alien in his grasp. A fleeting thought crossed his mind; perhaps Neph's Boko Club would be a better fit. But the idea of approaching her right now was a daunting prospect.
"Alright, the entrance we'll be using isn't far from here," Neph announced, her voice breaking the silence. "We should be able to reach it before dawn breaks."
Noah looked up, a question forming on his lips. "While I understand the need for rest," he began, "wouldn't a night attack have been more... stealthy?"
"Most monsters lose their sight in the darkness," Christa explained, her eyes still closed in meditation. "Lizalfos, however, are an exception. Their eyes are remarkably keen. If one had spotted us, they could have used our blindness to their advantage and launched an attack from above."
"Figures," Noah grumbled, the frustration evident in his voice. "Just another pain in the neck."
The pre-dawn light cast an eerie glow on the landscape as Noah hoisted his spear on his belt and his Boko Shield on his arm. The weight, though unfamiliar, felt oddly comforting in this unsettled tension. He fell in step behind Christa and Neph, their movements practiced and silent.
They navigated a maze of gnarled trees and rocky outcrops, the path barely visible through the undergrowth. The air grew thick with humidity, the silence broken only by the occasional rustle of unseen creatures. Noah's hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of the Boko Spear whenever this happened, perhaps he was on guard a little too much.
After what felt like an eternity, Neph crouched low, her hand outstretched in a silent signal. They reached a clearing dominated by the imposing Wall. But unlike the smooth, imposing structure Noah envisioned, this section was shrouded in a curtain of tangled vines and scraggly bushes.
Christa stepped forward, her gaze sweeping the undergrowth. Her fingers brushed aside a particularly thick cluster of vines, revealing a dark gap in the Wall. It was barely wide enough for a single person to squeeze through, and the air emanating from the gap was stale and unnaturally cold.
Noah swallowed hard. It was a hidden, dank hole that reeked. A shiver ran down his spine, a primal fear battling with the cold pragmatism that had settled in his gut.
And it was completely dark inside.
"This is it," Christa whispered, her voice barely audible. "The hidden entrance."
"How are we planning to navigate? Are there lanterns inside?" Noah asked
Christa's brow furrowed slightly at Noah's question. "Lanterns?" she spoke, a hint of surprise in her voice. "Nope any light source inside would shine right through the cracks in the Wall, making it a beacon for the Knights patrolling above."
Neph, ever the pragmatist, simply nodded and unsheathed her Boko Club. With a swift movement, she disappeared into the gaping maw of the Wall. Christa cast a single encouraging glance towards Noah before following suit.
He stood alone for a heartbeat; the weight of the Boko Spear suddenly oppressive. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself. There was no turning back. With a muttered curse, he followed them, plunging into the cold, unknown depths of the Wall.
Entering the smugglers' tunnel, Noah was swallowed whole by a darkness so profound it felt like a physical entity. The sliver of pre-dawn light from the entrance vanished behind him, leaving a suffocating blackness that pressed in on him from all sides.
An instinctive, primal fear, a fear older than reason, clawed its way up his throat. It was a fear that stretched back to childhood nights spent hiding under the covers, the monsters under his bed fuelled by the dancing shadows on his bedroom's walls. But this wasn't a bedroom, here in this inky abyss, every creak and groan of the tunnel that echoed in his ears made him guarded for good reason.
Under the darkness Noah couldn't effectively defend himself, all it would take was one well-placed sword to end his life without even knowing his attacker. The Boko Spear, clutched tightly in his hand, felt like a twig. Its unfamiliar weight couldn't even offer a pathetic illusion of defence in this blindness. Here, in the suffocating darkness, his skills and training meant nothing. He was exposed, vulnerable, a target waiting to be picked off in the unseen threat.
A hand, surprisingly cool and smooth, grasped his own. Startled, he nearly yelped, but a calming sense of presence settled over him as Christa, he assumed, gently guided him forward. The only evidence he wasn't alone was the faint sound of their breathing, a whisper against the oppressive silence.
The hand tightened around his for a brief moment, a silent reassurance in the crushing darkness. Before Neph's unexpected voice appeared beside him.
"The tunnel's been around for centuries," she whispered, her voice barely a murmur. "Originally, it was built by miners searching for Sheikah relicts before the Great Calamity within the Wall itself. Now, well..." she trailed off, leaving the unspoken implication to hang in the air.
Although surprised it was Neph holding his hands, he was distracted by a more pressing thought. He'd only been in Hyrule for a few days, and the scars of the Great Calamity were everywhere. The once-vibrant kingdom was evidently a shell of its former self, overrun by monsters and shrouded in an air of desperation.
He was struggling to survive against basic Moblin's and Bokoblin's. How, he wondered with a growing sense of dread, had Link ever managed to face down the Divine Beasts? This world was based off BOTW sure, but Noah couldn't help but think everything was hard mode, turned up to eleven.
To think he once thought Master Mode was difficult.
'Then again, if monsters begun to regenerate health…' Noah grimaced of the implications.
"As for monsters appearing," Neph continued unaware of Noah's thoughts, "there's always a chance. But the smugglers who used this route were careful. They wouldn't risk bringing anything too loud or too large."
A flicker of morbid curiosity sparked within Noah. "Smuggled what exactly?" he pressed, the question a distraction from the suffocating darkness he was experiencing.
"Mostly it was weapons and supplies," Christa's voice chimed in from somewhere ahead. "Prohibited monster parts, even the occasional Sheikah relic. Anything valuable enough to risk the Knights' patrols."
"Sheikah relics?" Noah echoed, a spark of surprise breaking through his fear. "Wouldn't back before the calamity those be really valuable?"
"Indeed," Neph replied. "Which is why the smugglers who used this tunnel were… shall we say, highly skilled. They wouldn't have lasted long if they were caught with anything too obvious."
Suddenly, the tunnel dipped sharply downwards. Neph's grip tightened on his hand, guiding him down the uneven descent. The air grew thick and stale, the smell of damp earth and something faintly metallic filling Noah's nostrils.
"Careful with your step," Christa warned. "This was created over a hundred years ago."
'You didn't mention that before.' Noah gritted his teeth, forcing down his thoughts. He had no choice but to trust them, to rely on their knowledge of this hidden passage. With each step, the darkness seemed to press in closer, a physical weight threatening to suffocate him. He longed for the faintest sliver of light, anything to break the monotony of the inky blackness.
It wasn't long after that did, he get what he wished for.
A sliver of light, faint and golden, sliced through the oppressive darkness above. Noah blinked, momentarily disoriented as his eyes adjusted to the sudden change. Relief, however, quickly evaporated as faint murmurs of voices reached his ears. But these weren't human voices.
A low guttural growl, almost rhythmic, sent shivers down Noah's spine. Panic clawed at his throat, threatening to choke him. Monsters. They were right above them, separated only by the decaying wooden planks that had replaced the stone roof at some point in the darkness.
Nephi's grip on his hand tightened, a silent signal for caution. Neph, ever the picture of stoicism, remained silent, her hand hovering near the hilt of her Boko Club. They inched forward, their movements slow and deliberate.
As they crept closer, the light grew stronger, revealing glimpses of the world above. Noah peeked through a gap, his heart pounding frantically. Below, a torch-lit corridor stretched out, patrolled by a group of Moblin's. Their hulking forms, covered in thick, black hide, were unmistakable.
The black Moblins lumbered back and forth, their guttural growls punctuated by the clanging of their weapons against the stone floor. Noah could see barrels stacked against the wall, crates overflowing with what looked like food and supplies – provisions for the Wall's defenders, no doubt.
"Looks like a supply depot," Neph whispered, her voice barely audible. "We need to find another way around them."
Noah looked carefully above them, it appeared they had travelled further than he thought as it appeared they were already past the wall inside the Wall itself in an enclosed space. Maybe his sense of time had been dilated being in the darkness for so long.
He also noticed that the tunnel narrowed ahead was barely wide enough for a single person to pass. Turning back wasn't an option. Their only choice was to navigate past the Moblins unseen, a near-impossible feat given the flimsy wooden ceiling and the growing light revealing their path.
His mind raced with possibilities. Maybe a distraction? But with what? And who would be brave enough to create one? Panic gnawed at him, these Moblin's weren't chained so were they perhaps more powerful? Black ones were supposed to be better than blue & red ones, but that was in the game.
Suddenly, a loud thump echoed through the tunnel, followed by a flurry of frantic scratching from above. The Moblin's below stopped their patrol, their guttural shouts echoing through the corridor. This was their chance.
"Now!" Neph hissed, squeezing Noah's hand once.
The desperate scramble through the tunnel became a blur. Gone was the cautious inching forward; instead, they were propelled by adrenaline, withs crabbling feet and ragged breaths Noah barely dared to blink, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness ahead. He stole a glance at one of the lumbering Moblin's above, its guttural growls echoing off the stone walls. As their eyes met, time seemed to slow. The Moblin's head turned slightly, its eyes squinting in their direction. Panic clawed at Noah's throat. Did it just see him? Did it recognise them?
Just then, the wooden planks above gave way, replaced by the cold, unforgiving touch of stone. The Moblin vanished from sight, its growls fading into the distance.
Relief washed over Noah, so intense it almost left him breathless. But a seed of doubt remained. "Did they see us?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.
Neph's reply, though intended to reassure, did little to quell the gnawing fear in his gut. "Moblin's' eyesight is notoriously bad, worse even than their intelligence," she said, her voice low. "A quick glance wouldn't have set off any alarms. Probably."
But their ordeal wasn't over. A sickening crack echoed through the tunnel, seemingly from nowhere. Dust and debris rained down on them in a suffocating shower, panic surging through Noah and momentarily eclipsing the crushing darkness.
"Blocked!" he shouted; his voice hoarse. A desperate question clawed its way up his throat. "Are we under attack?"
The tunnel groaned ominously, a death rattle that sent shivers down Noah's spine. A sliver of light peeked through a newly formed gap in the ceiling, a cruel taunt of freedom. They were trapped.
Just as despair threatened to engulf him, Neph reacted with a burst of urgency. She slammed her Boko Club into the wall beside them, shattering the stone with a resounding crack. A hidden passage, barely visible in the gloom, was revealed.
"Through here!" she commanded; her voice tight with barely suppressed panic.
Noah stumbled blindly, his hand brushing against the rough, splintered edges of the opening. Relief flooded him, momentary and fragile. He squeezed through the gap, gasping as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.
He found himself in a small, dank storeroom, crates and barrels stacked against the damp walls. Across from him, a heavy wooden door provided the only exit. Thankfully, the room was empty.
Christa followed after him, blinking rapidly in the sudden light. Noah watched as she to covered her eyes briefly in adjustment. Neph, however, seemed relatively unaffected, merely squinting momentarily.
The tremors continued outside, punctuated by the rumble of falling debris. A heartbeat later, the section of the tunnel they'd just been in collapsed with a deafening roar. Rocks and dirt rained down through the small opening above, sealing their escape route.
"Attack?" Noah asked, his voice barely a whisper, confirming his earlier fear.
Neph's gaze fell to the rubble blocking the tunnel before rising to meet his eyes. "Just bad luck," she sighed, a hint of grim acceptance in her voice.
Christa closed her eyes and murmured a silent prayer, her shoulders slumped in worry. Noah let out a shaky breath. "All according to plan," he muttered sarcastically. "Except for getting trapped, of course. So, where did this hidden passage take us?"
Neph dusted herself off, the stoic facade momentarily cracking. "We're not far from the original exit," she said, her voice strained. "We just need to find another way into the tunnel network, and we can continue."
"But first, we need to figure out where exactly we are," Noah countered, his hand instinctively reaching for the Boko Spear on his side as he moved towards the heavy wooden door.
"Be careful," Christa warned, her voice laced with concern.
Noah gave her a curt nod. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself and pushed open the door, the rusty hinges screaming their protest.
The rusted iron door creaked open, revealing a large courtyard in dim light. At first, relief flooded him. Open space. Freedom, perhaps. Regardless it was hundreds of times better than the dark, damp space of the tunnels. But that illusion shattered faster than a dropped goblet. The courtyard wasn't an escape, it was something worse.
Cages lined the perimeter, their occupants a living tapestry of misery. Knights, once proud warriors, were huddled masses of despair, their dented and dull armor a testament to battles fought and lost. Civilians, their faces etched with terror and resignation, clung to bars, their eyes pleading for deliverance that wouldn't come. Some were alive, their eyes wide with terror, others… not. But most however had a chilling emptiness in their gaze, their minds broken by horrors unseen.
In the centre, a smouldering pit overflowed with blackened corpses that reached high above the courtyard. The stench of burnt flesh a suffocating blanket settling over the courtyard assaulted Noah's nostrils making him gag violently.
The air, thick with the metallic tang of blood, carried the silent screams of the tormented. Scattered around the grotesque courtyard hung corpses – twisted mockeries of humanity dangling from makeshift gallows, their forms swaying like wind chimes carved from bone.
But the pinnacle of horror was the banquet unfolding on the cobblestones. A gaggle of Bokoblins, their guttural laughter a symphony of malice, tore into flesh with a barbarity that defied comprehension. Their bloodshot eyes, devoid of any semblance of humanity, reflected a feral hunger that chilled Noah to the core. This wasn't a meal; it was a performance of depravity. Some of the "food" still writhed and moaned, their desperate pleas ignored, lost in the symphony of chomping and guttural laughter.
The humans in the cages, those with life still flickering in their eyes, reacted in a spectrum of horror. Some, their sanity teetering on the edge, screamed and cried out, their voices echoing off the stone walls. Others watched with an empty, vacant stare, their minds having already broken under the weight of the atrocities they'd witnessed.
The scene was an assault on the senses. The bloodcurdling screams, the sickening thumps of flesh being ripped apart, the stench of death – all coalesced into a suffocating wave that threatened to drown Noah. He stumbled back, his vision blurring, his stomach churning in violent rebellion. The tunnel's suffocating darkness had been a prison, but this courtyard was a living nightmare.
A choked sob escaped his lips, a beacon in courtyard of terror. It drew the attention of a Bokoblin, its head snapping up mid-chew. The half-devoured limb dangled from its maw, dripping crimson onto the cobblestones. The creature turned, its face a grotesque mask of glee, its bloodshot eyes fixated on Noah.
Hysteria surged through him, raw and primal. He slammed the iron door shut with a deafening clang, the reverberations mocking the thin barrier between him and the nightmare outside. Noah fell backwards away from the cold metal, his body wracked with dry heaves. Bile burned his throat, which soon exited as Noah vomited onto the floor, tears streamed down his face, blurring the world into a grotesque watercolour.
The darkness of the tunnel had been oppressive, but now it seemed like a sanctuary compared to the monstrous banquet unfolding just beyond the door. For the first time despite all of his rationality, fear transcended thought. His mind, overwhelmed by the sheer brutality of the scene, shut down. He couldn't form a plan, couldn't conjure a strategy not even a single thought. All he felt was a suffocating blanket of despair.