The muculater fired three quick blasts, shooting them in quick succession that totally destroyed the support structure that Link was standing on. He cursed mightily and leapt high into the air as the fiery debris just went fucking everywhere. I can't handle another one of these situations that just seem to be appearing over and over these days without any rest or respite or any kind of sleep or relaxation or even fucking entertainment of any kind, thought Link in a tight ball of controlled rage that fractured his whole face in a pretty cool maneuver.

He laughed outwardly however, being the sort of fellow who does that. He pulled his sword from out of his sword pocket and returned fire. The sword couldn't return fire because it was a sword. But that's not the story the historians told.

AND LO, the historians began, bellowing their tale with the force of a gale, THE BRAVE HERO LINK DID IT.

The muculater cried in dismay. He rolled to the side and let the return fire streak over his head. It was awesome. He would tell his children this story one day. The story of triumph against the enemy. But who was the enemy? Sometimes that kept him up at night. He couldn't trust what his own senses told him sometimes.

Link was thinking similar thoughts except he didn't let them control his actions. Landing gracefully, he plunged his sword into the muculater's terrified face. The muculater expanded, then contracted, then expanded again, contracted one more time before expanding again in a strange sort of expansion before contracting deep into itself and then simply dying. It blew up all over Link but he didn't care. He just didn't.