His Fist

Book I: The Rise of the Green Knight

Prologue

The eye was a magnificent organ, but it was clearly outclassed when it tried to keep track of every sword stroke, every riposte, every parry, and every lunge. To the eye the whole display in the infinitely large chamber seemed to condense together into a blur of shouts, blurs, and leaps. It was almost beautiful in its own right.

And it should be. Fighting with the fate of the world in balance was Link, the Hero of Time. His violet hilted sword was untraceable as it seemed to lunge at the black-armored figure, then halted and spontaneously erupted into a spin. Leaping into the air to attempt a vertical stab, at the last minute he brought his sword up to parry a slice from the black-armored figure. There was no being on the planet that could match Link in combat. Years of training, experience, and impulsiveness had transcended fighting from rote drill into an instinct as basic as eating and sleeping. Many found tragedy in this necessity. Link did not care to argue the point. However cruel destiny had been it had molded him to this point. No mortal could stand against this ultimate of heroes.

Except that his opponent was not mortal. His opponent did not deal in such trivialities. His opponent, the King of Evil, the Avatar of Power, the World Emperor, was a living god. And he found this fight quite amusing.

Link's blade darted out at the speed of light, an attack that would have resulted in the destruction of anything in its path. An attack so fast that dodging would have been out of the question. Except, the World Emperor gave a contemptuous shrug and inclined a shoulder slightly as the blade singed past. Chuckling as the lunge now made Link defenseless, the malevolent monarch coiled back his black plated arm and released it as it crashed into Link's jaw. The Hero of Time flew to the other side of the room.

Link could hear an anguished cry from the other side of the room as he smacked against the marble floors and skidded to a halt. As soon as he found his footing, the World Emperor was a precious few feet away bearing down on him with his sword—except the World Emperor had no intention of attacking with his sword. As Link leveled his blade to parry the inevitable strike, the dark lord brought an armored gauntlet to strike the tip of the Link's blade. Link, now defenseless, was brought to his knees by the blast of power from the World Emperor's outstretched palm. A precise kick was all that was needed to bring Link back down to the ground. As the back of his skull slammed into the marble, a massive heel bore its terrible weight upon his left hand. His grip failing on his bladed companion as pain coursed through his left arm, his grip failed.

As he felt the fibrous bone in his hand begin splinter, Link realized that the sum total of his being was an illusion. Despite all the training, all the training, toils, and struggles; despite all the encouragement of his mentors, teachers, and friends; despite everything that had prepared him to be the Hero of Time for these few fleeting moments; he realized that he did not have it. He had failed.

Link was outclassed. He was outsmarted. He was simply outfought. And now all was lost because of this misestimate.

As the World Emperor strode towards him, he cursed himself bitterly. He glanced at the source of the anguished cry. Because of his arrogance, everybody he cared about—and the woman he loved—was about to die. He gave the Princess the ghostly remnant of a smile as the King of Evil finally arrived at his side.

Kicking the now free sword to the other side of the room, the King of Evil gripped Link by the neck, lifting him nearly eight feet above the blood-stained floor. Regarding him with a brief smile, the King of Evil proceeded to hurl him into a rounded column. As his shoulder bore the brunt of the impact, Link recalled hearing the tell-tale snapping sound that heralded the breaking of his sword arm.

The Hero of Time's clouding vision desperately searched for his strayed sword as he forced failing muscles to stand upright. The World Emperor derived perverse humor as he once again kicked him to the ground. Link's fading vision perceived the waning glow of the three conjoined triangles on his left hand. Victory flooded into the World Emperor's features.

His voice came from a deep wound within the fabric of the cosmos.

"I must say you disappoint me. The strength of your predecessor led me to believe that you might honor him in more than simply fashion and name. I see I was mistaken. " A sneer sprouted on menacing lips. "However, I congratulate on becoming an admirable nuisance. Unfortunately, you understand that I cannot reward such valiantly stupid behavior. My apologies, my lad. Rest assured this farcical pattern of destiny shall end! Then we shall all be free!"

A lesser man might have been tempted to use these final moments to swear everlasting hatred to his foe or to vow that he would someday meet a grizzly reciprocal end. But Link was not a lesser man. As a shimmering blade drove toward his chest, Link opened his mouth to tell her to live, to be strong, and that they would be together again one day.

At least that was his intent until the blade skewered him. As the blade coarsely withdrew from the heart piercing tunnel it burrowed, the victorious tyrant muttered with melancholy. "Some things never change."

As his mortality waned and his vision blanked, the price of blood and toil that brought him to this moment became more vivid. His brief life had seen the death of friends and loved ones, he had been born an orphan and would die an orphan, and he had seen the fall of the Hylian people. His life—his world—had existed as one unbroken chain of remorse.

But as the last shards of vision fled, he saw her for the last time. Then all notions of regret fled his being.

And Link, the failed Hero of Time, embraced his oblivion a happy man.

His Fist

Book I: The Rise of the Green Knight