[For a moment, Link lies on the ground, unmoving, completely still but for the faint, shuddering rise and fall of his chest. He can no longer feel the grip of Asura's hand around him, but he's certain this isn't over. A familiar --almost nostalgic, in a way-- feeling of desperation surges over him and he pushes off from the ground, achingly slowly, pushes himself up to his knees. The Master Sword seems to still be in his hand, and he uses it to pull himself upright, wavering a little.
There are no Guardians this time, and no Princess to protect. Just him and this one foe, blind with rage. In this moment, he realizes how similar this is to the fate that awaits him at home. If he allows himself to fall again when fighting Calamity Ganon, then Hyrule will have no future...and perhaps that's what pushes him to his feet, unsteady, bobbing from side to side with blurry, fragmented vision. His free hand once again goes to his side, vaguely aware of a sharp pain there. The other hand raises the Master Sword. For a moment, he feels blood and bile rise in his throat, feels his strength ebb and his knees start to buckle...and then a feeling of warmth spreads through his body, gentle, like a summer breeze. Pains recede, and as his vision clears he almost thinks he sees the faint outline of... no, it's gone.
He takes one breath, and then another, looking from that spot in front of him to the foe towering above. Is he...hesitating?]
You can stop this. [His voice is hoarse, but feeling the surge of Mipha's power, he can't help embodying her ideals, her hopes. He can't let a foe continue to rampage, but if he's willing to stop, he deserves that chance.] It's not too late.
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There are no Guardians this time, and no Princess to protect. Just him and this one foe, blind with rage. In this moment, he realizes how similar this is to the fate that awaits him at home. If he allows himself to fall again when fighting Calamity Ganon, then Hyrule will have no future...and perhaps that's what pushes him to his feet, unsteady, bobbing from side to side with blurry, fragmented vision. His free hand once again goes to his side, vaguely aware of a sharp pain there. The other hand raises the Master Sword. For a moment, he feels blood and bile rise in his throat, feels his strength ebb and his knees start to buckle...and then a feeling of warmth spreads through his body, gentle, like a summer breeze. Pains recede, and as his vision clears he almost thinks he sees the faint outline of... no, it's gone.
He takes one breath, and then another, looking from that spot in front of him to the foe towering above. Is he...hesitating?]
You can stop this. [His voice is hoarse, but feeling the surge of Mipha's power, he can't help embodying her ideals, her hopes. He can't let a foe continue to rampage, but if he's willing to stop, he deserves that chance.] It's not too late.