Chapter Text
Warriors watches the two Champions blearily, forcing his eyes to stay focused on them. He knows one is the Shadow but he can’t let himself entertain the possibilities of who the other one is. For now, he has to think of it nothing more than another potential enemy.
The one with the odd spear that gleams gold, its green gem ornaments clinking softly against the shaft as he twirls it, keeps himself between Warriors and the twisted Champion. The golden spear spins and spins, batting away a sickening dark blade every time the bloodstained, withered Champion tries to break through his guard.
Watching the spinning spear is actually making Warriors feel nauseous. Well, he mentally amends that to ‘more nauseous’, glancing down at the blood spreading across his tunic.
And this weird noise, whatever it is, isn’t helping! There’s something heavy weighing the clearing down, pressing into Warriors’ skin.
All he can hear is this pulsing loud tick tick tick in his ears, accompanied by an odd warping sensation in his limbs.
It’s magic, he knows that much, but he’s never felt it before and has no idea which Champion it may be coming from, if it even is either of them casting the spell.
He turns his head to spit out a mouthful of blood and it feels like the movement takes an eternity to complete.
So either his blood loss is more severe than he thought, or there’s something else going on.
The spear-wielding Champion darts backwards, his grip along the spear finally shifting into a proper stance, grinning wildly.
Ha, Warriors is hilarious.
A large shining gem sitting at the dip of the first Champion's throat lights his face up from below, all deep shadows and softened edges. He’s breathing heavily, a slight tremble visible in his fingers as he readjusts his grip.
The other Champion across from them makes a sweeping gesture with its withered arm and something red and alive spurs into life, lunging forward. The shape twists, absorbing what remains of the rotted flesh, and large, monstrous fingers stretch into existence. They reach through the darkness for the first Champion, wicked under the moonlight.
The first Champion raises the spear slightly in response, his grin vanishing as it's smothered under a blank, smooth expression that Warriors refuses to recognise. The fingers, the vile magic, get closer to his face, closing the distance rapidly—
And Time shoots out of the bushes, the Biggoron sword catching the moonlight as it arcs through the air and severs the arm from withered Champion's body. The arm hits the ground and melts into a writhing pool of furious magic, thrashing around that Champion’s feet.
The ticking in Warriors’ ears stops so abruptly he's thrown off-kilter, reeling at the sudden silence left in its wake.
Time glances at him, a quick look filled with concern and worry, then shifts his gaze to the spear-wielding Champion — Wild, Warriors lets himself finally acknowledge.
Dozens of micro-expressions fly rapidly across Time's face before he finally decides on grim determination.
“That,” he says in an almost wobbly tone of voice, taking up stance next to Wild, “is loud.”
“Yeah, I’ve been told. Sorry about that.” Wild agrees, still focused on the withered copy of himself standing in front of them. He shoots Time a small grin, barely there but blindingly obvious if you know what to look for. “Worked though.”
Time lets out a quiet huff of laughter, his own small smile twitching across his face. He shifts, sword held tightly in both hands. "You're definitely not wrong about that, Wild. When we get back to camp, you'll have to tell me how you managed to make your magic even louder than it already was."