The morning silence was suddenly shattered by a sharp beep that startled Link, pulling him from his darker thoughts. It was Purah's Pad, vibrating in his hand—a signal of an urgent message in the group chat. Smiling, he welcomed the break from his ominous musings, feeling warmth at the thought of his friends, and quickly opened the messaging panel.

"Good morning!" greeted Yunobo with the boundless cheer and warmth characteristic of the Gorons. He seemed particularly proud since he had been named Sage of Fire. "Ready? I'm on my way to Lookout Landing with a fresh arsenal of rock roast, just finished up at the Grill."

Riju replied with a chuckle, always amused by the young Goron's insatiable appetite.

"Ha, ha, ha! I'm all set to go too!" laughed Riju. The young Chief of the Gerudo and Sage of Lightning was in high spirits that morning. "I'm just finalizing a few last details with Buliara. She's the one I've entrusted with my duties while I'm away from the Town."

Link smiled; Buliara was undeniably perfect for the role. Not only was she Riju's right hand, well-versed in the intricacies of command, but she had also served faithfully under the young matriarch's mother before her. With Buliara at the helm, Gerudo Town was in excellent hands.

An audio message broke the silence. It was Tulin, the son of the newly appointed Rito chieftain, and the Sage of Wind.

A knot tightened in Link's stomach as he listened to the message. "Barely a teenager, and he already bears the weight of being named Sage of Wind," he thought.

"Liiink! I'm on my way!" Tulin's youthful voice rang out, filled with boundless enthusiasm. "I'm flying to Lookout Landing! We're going to give that Demon King a real fight!"

Sidon, King of the Zora and Sage of Water, also wrote to the group:

"My apologies for the delay. Yona and I have just finished packing up. We'll set out shortly after a few final words with my father and Muzu, who will be overseeing the Domain in our absence."

Mineru, the Sage of Spirit, sent her morning greeting. Though she would not be with them at Lookout Landing, she understood the importance of joining their morning salutations.

Link smiled and wrote a reply:

"Thank you all. I truly appreciate your support. When all this is over, we'll have a grand feast of roast rocks, salmon in sauce, hearty Hyrule bass, and, of course, rivers of Noble Pursuit."

"Oh, absolutely!" Purah added. "Everyone, take care on the journey and make sure your teleport coordinates are correctly configured. I emailed all of you yesterday with the details... even you, Tulin, since although you're flying, you never know if something might go wrong mid-flight."

Almost in unison, everyone confirmed their coordinates were set. Purah, sighing to herself, murmured quietly:

"Let's just hope no one ends up teleporting into a river of lava..."

With the exchange finished, Link sighed. From the balcony of his home in Tarrey Town, he gazed out over the vast horizon. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, letting the salty sea air fill him with a calm resolve. He needed that peace before facing the greatest trial of his life.

He returned to his bedroom, where the weapons and shields he had collected throughout his travels lay, somewhat chaotically, on his bed. Pride filled him as he took in the sight, as many of these pieces had cost him blood, sweat, and tears, and now each would serve, along with the Master Sword, in his final battle. He inspected his shields—a Silver Lynel shield, the Hylian shield, and several Royal shields—all accompanied by memories. On one of them displayed a Sand Seal stuffed toy, a gift from Riju, glued at the center. When he saw it, he remembered, amused, his last trip to Gerudo Town. The laughter of the young Chief and friend, when she discovered his antics, echoed in his mind: "Link, you've always had a peculiar sense of humor!"

Then he turned to admire his weapons. Some had been claimed from the depths, won amidst riddles and dangers, and he chose the finest, the most powerful between them. They were pristine blades, weapons of ancient heroes who had once freed Hyrule from Ganondorf's darkness. He knew they would be invaluable, for the weapons on the surface, corroded by malice, would not endure as these relics would.

Then, he dressed in his favored outfit: the Hylian hood and trousers paired with the new Champion's tunic, the one Zelda had hidden within Hyrule Castle. Into his pack, he stowed the depth armor, in case he needed extra protection against the malice of the depths, as well as his glide armor—though he wasn't sure why. Something told him it would prove useful.

Locking up the rest of his gear, he was all too aware of Nambod's notorious penchant for pilfering relics. His gaze lingered on his arm. Even after gathering all 152 light orbs, a sinister darkness remained, clinging stubbornly within him. "Why can't I rid myself of this?" he wondered, feeling a growing unease. "Will there be always a part of me marked by shadow?" That lingering darkness threatened to consume him, reminding him that the battle was not only against the Demon King but also the shadows of his own past.

But now he had a mission to fulfill. With his pack brimming with gear, shields, and supplies, Link cast a final look at the picture hanging on the wall: a selfie taken atop the Light Dragon. Nostalgia tightened his chest. "Will I see Zelda again?" he wondered, feeling despair creep into his heart. "Will I ever hold her again?" How he wished she could be here with him, sharing the weight of the approaching battle. He knew that Purah and Impa were working tirelessly, scouring ancient texts and consulting old scrolls, searching for some way to bring her back. Yet, uncertainty gnawed at him.

Zelda's absence felt like an unbearable void, one that no amount of preparation could fill. The thought that his companion—his light in the darkness—might not witness this critical moment filled him with a desolate ache. That void, a persistent shadow in his soul, spurred him to fight with unwavering resolve, but it also left him yearning for her presence, wishing she could stand beside him at this decisive hour.

Time was slipping away. Link made his way to the door, but before crossing it, he stopped. The past months had been a whirlwind of adventure, trials, and triumphs. Now, a new battle loomed, and he had to face it with everything he had. He drew one last, steadying breath, then stepped forward, heading toward the nearest teleportation point. The final battle was about to begin.

In the depths, in the darkest, deepest hole, the Demon King waited impatiently, sitting on his throne of shadows. The surrounding darkness seemed to absorb everything, while his fiery gaze burned with contained fury that only grew with every passing moment. He was close, he could feel it—the arrival of Link and the sages—but it didn't concern him. Not yet.

The shadows of the depths stirred, as if alive, full of monstrous creatures crawling through its dark corners. In the distance, guttural whispers and maddening laughter echoed. The Poes, wandering spirits trapped in this cursed dimension, screamed in despair, condemned to wander for all eternity, prisoners of the infinite darkness surrounding them. Their voices were like muffled echoes, a constant reminder of the power the Demon King wielded over this place.

The Demon King let out a deep, macabre laugh. Every fiber of his being reveled in the victory he already considered assured, as he delighted in imagining the tortures that awaited them. His laughter reverberated throughout the abyss, causing even the most terrifying creatures to shrink back, crushed by the weight of his power.

—Does he really think he can defeat me? That his bravery is enough? He doesn't know who he's facing. I am Power itself. He will fall before he even reaches the abyss.

He closed his eyes with disdain, as if the mere thought of the heroes' arrival was a nuisance, a game that would soon dissipate in his endless darkness. The Demon King was above it all—above hope, above the struggle, above any attempt at resistance. He had already won everything, even before the battle had begun.

However, as his mind wandered through these thoughts, a figure appeared in the shadows. Dressed in a tight red suit that reflected the little light that reached the depths of the abyss in a sinister manner, the figure knelt before the Demon King's dark throne. A white mask covered their face, relentless and cold, not revealing the slightest emotion. Their earrings, shaped like bananas, jingled with each movement. The figure remained silent, waiting for their presence to be acknowledged.

The Demon King opened his eyes, a malevolent smile forming as he perceived the presence before him. He knew who was there: his loyal servant, his executioner, always ready to fulfill his will.

—Are you ready for what's to come? —asked the Demon King, his voice deep and laden with dark promises.

The figure remained silent for a few seconds before responding, their tone cold and without a trace of fear:

—I will be, Your Magnificence.

—By the way... —the Demon King narrowed his eyes and leaned forward slightly, gazing more intensely at his servant—. Are my vassals ready to devastate everything?

—Of course, Your Magnificence —the figure replied without hesitation—. My minions are summoning them right now. Soon, Hyrule will overflow with the torrent of evil we are unleashing.

—Excellent... excellent... —murmured the Demon King, reclining back in his throne with palpable satisfaction—. Let's see how that hero of no consequence handles the pressure while his friends die one by one...

A new wave of tension swept across the abyss. The very air seemed to charge with the impending catastrophe. The Demon King knew the confrontation was near, that all he had planned, all the darkness he had sown, would soon reach its climax. In his heart, there was an unwavering certainty of victory. Yet, he couldn't help but savor the final wait, knowing the fate of the brave souls approaching him was more than predictable.