Chapter 124Villain POV
Noah stood immobile, his feet planted firmly as he stared at the imposing estate towering before him. The wrought-iron gate, adorned with grotesque, twisted designs, served as a barrier between him and the place he had once called home. How long had it been since he last crossed that threshold? Weeks? Months? The passage of time had blurred in his mind, days melting into one another in a haze of missions and training. Yet one fact remained crystal clear amidst the fog of memory—he hadn't missed this place at all.
The full moon hung low in the sky, casting an ethereal glow over the landscape. Long, eerie shadows stretched across the overgrown gardens, transforming what had once been manicured hedges into monstrous shapes that writhed in the silvery light. The entire property exuded an air of neglect and foreboding, as if nature itself was striving to reclaim what had once been stolen from it.
Noah's jaw tightened, muscles clenching painfully as he contemplated the night ahead. The mere thought of stepping inside that house sent ripples of rebellion through his very core. Memories lurked within those walls like specters, waiting to pounce and drag him back into a past he had fought so hard to escape. But he had no choice. The mission mandated they stay the night before embarking on their journey to the mountain, where that damned artifact awaited them.
To make matters infinitely worse, he had to endure it with Abaddon, that insufferable, enigmatic bastard who had waltzed into their lives and turned everything upside down. Noah's eyes narrowed as he glanced to his side, catching sight of Abaddon meandering through the garden.
The newcomer's eyes were wide with curiosity, drinking in every detail of the macabre scenery as if he were on some twisted vacation. He paused to examine a withered rose, its petals black as night, seemingly oblivious to the oppressive atmosphere that draped over the estate like a shroud. The casual way Abaddon surveyed the surroundings, treating it all like an extraordinary adventure rather than a potentially deadly mission, made Noah's blood boil.
With Herculean effort, Noah pushed the anger deep down, burying it beneath layers of cold determination. He reminded himself of the mission at hand, the importance of maintaining focus. Complete the task first, he told himself, repeating it like a mantra in his mind. Then, and only then, could he entertain thoughts of eliminating Abaddon—if the fool didn't get himself killed first, a possibility that seemed increasingly likely with each passing moment.
"Hello, Master Noah, long time no see," a sly voice cut through the night air, slicing through Noah's thoughts like a knife. The familiar tone elicited a deep frown, his brow furrowing as he looked up at the source of the greeting.
There, standing at the top of the grand steps of the estate, was Arthur—the butler Noah had never trusted. By his father's side since the beginning, Arthur had been a constant presence that Noah had learned to regard with caution from a young age. The old man's stooped figure belied a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue. His sunken eyes glinted with cunning that far exceeded his subservient role.
"But it appears you are not here for a social visit," Arthur continued, his voice dripping with false concern. Noah could detect the undercurrent of amusement in the butler's tone, and it set his teeth on edge.
Arthur's gaze shifted to Abaddon, who had finally decided to catch up, sauntering up the path as if nothing weighed heavily on his mind. "Ah, this must be a friend of yours," the butler said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he scrutinized Abaddon's appearance. "It's been quite a while since you brought a friend who wasn't one of the ninjas."
Noah clenched his fists, knuckles turning white with the effort of restraining himself. The skin stretched taut over his bones, threatening to split under the pressure. It was bad enough that his day had been utterly miserable, a cascade of failures culminating in this unwanted homecoming. Having to deal with Arthur's thinly veiled insinuations and prying questions pushed him closer to losing his carefully maintained composure.
"He is not my friend," Noah spat, each word dripping with venom. His voice was low and dangerous, a warning to both Arthur and Abaddon. "We are merely completing a mission together. Nothing more."
He glared at Abaddon, daring him to contradict the statement. To Noah's surprise and slight relief, Abaddon simply rolled his eyes at the remark but remained silent. It was perhaps the only thing Noah could be grateful for at that moment. The last thing he needed was to clean up after one of Abaddon's messes or explain away some ill-conceived comment or action. Noah knew all too well that whatever happened here, no matter how insignificant it might seem, would inevitably reach his father's ears.
"I see," Arthur murmured, his tone suggesting he didn't believe a word of it. The butler's lips curled into a small, knowing smile that sent a shiver down Noah's spine. Without another word, Arthur turned, presenting his back to them in a subtle show of disrespect that Noah didn't miss. "I will show you to your designated rooms."
As they followed Arthur into the oppressive darkness of the estate, Noah couldn't shake the feeling that this night would be far longer and more treacherous than he had anticipated. The familiar hallways, once a playground for a young boy, now felt like a labyrinth designed to ensnare and confuse him. Shadows danced at the edge of his vision, and every creak of the floorboards seemed to whisper secrets best left forgotten.
With each step, the weight of his past, combined with the uncertainty of his future, pressed down on Noah, threatening to crush him. He could feel Abaddon's presence behind him—a constant reminder of the complications that had entered his life. And ahead, the looming specter of his father waited, ready to judge and condemn him as he had always done.
Noah steeled himself, drawing on reserves of strength he didn't know he possessed. Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever secrets this night might reveal, he would face them head-on. He had no choice. For in this world of shadows and deceit, to show weakness was to invite destruction. And he had not come this far, endured so much, only to falter now.
As Arthur led them down the labyrinthine corridors of the estate, Noah couldn't help but notice that Abaddon's assigned room was directly adjacent to his own. It seemed as though whatever higher power existed in this twisted world held a particular grudge against him. Was this some form of cosmic retribution for all the lives he'd taken, all the wrongs he had committed? If so, why had they chosen to bring this enigmatic interloper into his life?
The butler's footsteps echoed ominously in the hallway as he stopped before two ornate doors, gesturing to each with an almost mocking flourish. Noah's eyes narrowed at the close proximity of their quarters, his mind racing with the potential complications this arrangement could bring.
Just as Abaddon reached for the handle of his designated room, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the corridor, Noah found himself moving forward, driven by an impulse that surprised even him. His hand shot out, gripping Abaddon's arm with unexpected force.
Abaddon turned, his mismatched eyes meeting Noah's with a mix of confusion and wariness. In that tense silence, the air between them crackled with unspoken questions and barely contained hostility.
Noah opened his mouth, and words he hadn't planned to speak tumbled out, urgent and laden with meaning. "Don't piss off my father," he said, his voice low and intense. It was more than a warning; it was a lifeline thrown to a man he considered an enemy, a gesture born from an instinct he couldn't quite explain. "There won't be anyone to save you if you do."
The weight of his statement hung in the air, heavy with implications. Noah searched Abaddon's face for any sign that the message had been received and understood. He saw a flicker of something—recognition, perhaps, or an emerging awareness of the danger that lurked within these walls.
Without waiting for a response, Noah turned abruptly and entered his own room, the door shutting behind him with a finality that echoed through the empty hallway. Leaning against the solid wood, his mind raced with questions. Why had he felt compelled to warn Abaddon? What nagging feeling was it that suggested there was more to their forced partnership than met the eye?
In the solitude of his childhood bedroom, now foreign and foreboding, Noah couldn't shake the sense that he had just set in motion events that would change everything. Whether for better or worse remained to be seen, but one thing was certain: the game had changed, and the stakes were higher than ever.
...
Lloyd POV
I watched Noah disappear into his room, the door clicking shut with a softness that felt ominous in the oppressive silence of the hallway. His parting words lingered heavily in the air, thick with implication like a fog that refused to dissipate. What was that all about? The warning, so urgent and unexpected, had caught me off guard. It was as if, for just a moment, Noah had lowered his mask of hostility to reveal a glimpse of something deeper—concern, perhaps, or a shared understanding of the dangers lurking within these walls.
I couldn't shake the feeling that Wu would prove to be a formidable presence, possibly even more sinister than I had initially anticipated. The Wu I knew from my world had always been a beacon of wisdom and peace. This Wu, however, appeared to be cut from an entirely different cloth—capable of bringing my father's former self to shame. The thought sent a chill down my spine. The Lord Garmadon I knew was a force to be reckoned with, but this Wu? He loomed on an entirely different level of malevolence.
Noah's warning had confirmed something I had sensed since we arrived—a strong possibility that he'd faced abuse at his father's hands. Or, at the very least, mistreatment. Given the nasty scar that marred Noah's face—a jagged line telling tales of violence and pain—abuse seemed the more likely scenario. Mister Glasses had mentioned that Noah bore that scar even before joining the school, his words casual yet laden with unspoken implications. So, there was really only one person powerful enough to inflict such a wound—Wu himself. The thought made my stomach churn. What kind of father would do that to his own son? What kind of monster lurked behind the title of 'Lord'?
From what I gathered, the Wu of this world appeared to harbor severe anger issues or something far worse lying beneath the surface. I tried to convince myself I didn't care, that it wasn't my problem. After all, if my assumptions were correct, Wu would never stoop to greet a guest, so the likelihood of an encounter seemed slim. I was here for a mission, nothing more. Get in, retrieve the artifact, and get out—simple.
Yet a nagging sense of unease persisted, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts like a hungry rat. This was no longer just about the mission. I was in the lion's den, surrounded by dangers I couldn't fully comprehend. And Noah, despite our antagonistic relationship, had tried to warn me. Surely that had to mean something, right?
My concern extended beyond just Wu. That butler, Arthur, exuded a dark energy that resonated even from our brief encounter. It wasn't the typical aura signaling an evil person, something I'd grown accustomed to at villain school. No, it felt much more profound and ancient. Arthur seemed intrinsically tied to evil itself—a living conduit for malevolent forces that utterly surpassed mortal comprehension.
The realization sent chills down my spine, raising goosebumps along my arms. Arthur was not human, and I had no interest in uncovering his true nature. Some mysteries, I concluded, were best left unsolved. The less I interacted with him, the better.
Seeking distraction from these unsettling thoughts, I walked over to the window, my footsteps muffled against the thick, ornate carpet. The glass felt cold against my fingertips as I leaned closer, peering into the gathering darkness. The mountain loomed in the distance, its jagged silhouette stark against the darkening sky. Even from this far away, it looked sinister—a jagged tooth gnashing at the heavens, a challenge to the very gods themselves.
It was hard to believe I was genuinely going to scale that mountain in search of the Artifact of Shadows. The thought filled me with a mix of excitement and dread, adrenaline coursing through my veins, even as fear coiled tightly in my stomach. What secrets did that mountain harbor? What dangers awaited us on its treacherous slopes?
But I had never been one to leap headfirst into peril without adequate preparation. That was a fool's game, and I had no intention of playing the fool. The most talented villains had vanished on that mountain—their fates unknown and likely grim. Entire expeditions had disappeared without a trace, consumed by whatever malevolent force lay in wait in that forbidding place.
I had no aspiration of becoming another statistic, just another name whispered in hushed tones by future students at the villain school. I needed to know exactly what I was dealing with before setting foot on that treacherous slope. And what better way to conduct research than to visit the library? Surely a house this size contained one filled with ancient tomes and forgotten lore. Perhaps I could uncover clues, hints of what awaited us on the mountain.
As if the mountain didn't provoke enough anxiety, there was also the matter of Noah to consider. I knew, with a certainty that felt like a lead weight in my stomach, that he intended to stab me in the back the moment our mission concluded. His palpable hatred crackled in the air between us, intensifying every time we occupied the same room.
Why did everything have to get so complicated? It was as if the universe conspired to make this task as difficult and dangerous as possible. I had come to this world with a clear goal in mind, but now? Now I felt as though I were drowning in a sea of secrets and hidden agendas, each revelation further muddling the waters.
My brooding was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, the sound slicing through my thoughts. It was followed by Arthur's crisp voice, each word precise and measured. "Excuse me, Abaddon," he called, his tone hinting at impatience that set my teeth on edge. "It is time for dinner. I hope you have something nice to wear."
I turned from the window, my gaze falling on my travel-worn bag slumped in the corner. It looked wretched amid the opulent room, a reminder of just how out of place I was in this world of villainous nobility. Did I even possess anything suitable to wear? I wondered, fresh anxiety washing over me.
The last thing I needed was to offend my hosts—especially ones as dangerous as these—with improper attire. I could almost hear my mother's voice chiding me for not being prepared. But how could I have anticipated this? How could anyone prepare for being thrust into a twisted mirror version of their own world?
As I rummaged through my meager belongings, I couldn't shake the feeling that this dinner was more than just a meal. It felt like a test, a delicate dance of manners and hidden agendas. Every word, every gesture would be scrutinized, analyzed for weakness or hidden meaning. And I, an outsider in this warped version of my world, would have to navigate it all without revealing my true identity or purpose.
With a sigh, I pulled out the least wrinkled shirt I could find—a simple black button-up, rather unremarkable, but it would have to suffice. As I changed, my mind raced with potential scenarios and strategies. Should I play the eager student, hungry for knowledge? Or would it serve me better to adopt an air of bored indifference, as if dining with legendary villains were an everyday occurrence for me?
One thing was certain: this evening promised to be anything but ordinary. As I straightened my collar and took a deep breath, I steeled myself for whatever challenges lay ahead. My reflection in the ornate mirror stared back at me, a stranger in familiar skin. Allowing myself a moment to absorb the full weight of my situation—alone in a hostile world, surrounded by enemies and uncertain allies, with the fate of two realities hanging in the balance—I prepared to face the evening.
I pushed those bleak thoughts aside. There was no time for self-pity or doubt. A role awaited me, an assignment to fulfill. As I reached for the door handle, ready to step into the lion's den, I reminded myself of one crucial fact: in this world of shadows and secrets, every interaction could be a matter of life and death. It was time to determine whether I was up to the challenge.
...
Heroes POV
Lloyd stood before Nadakhan, his emerald eyes blazing with determination. "I wish to bring back all my friends, my mother, and my uncle," he declared, his voice firm despite the fear gnawing at his insides.
Nadakhan narrowed his eyes, a cruel smile curling his lips. "I'm afraid I cannot grant that wish, young ninja."
Lloyd's face fell, confusion and frustration etching deep lines across his brow. "What? Why not? You're supposed to grant any wish!"
The djinn circled Lloyd, his multiple arms gesturing dramatically. "There are rules—even for beings as powerful as myself. I cannot bring back the dead, nor can I alter the very fabric of reality to such an extent."
"But… but you have to!" Lloyd protested, his voice cracking with emotion. "What good is a genie who can't grant wishes?"
Nadakhan's laughter echoed across Tiger Widow Island—cold and mocking. "Oh, I can grant wishes, just not yours. You see, there's something... different about you. Something that sets you apart from the others."
Lloyd stood rooted, biting his nails—a nervous habit he couldn't shake. The vibrant colors of the island surrounded him, but the lush greenery and towering palm trees did little to ease his anxiety. His mind raced, replaying the events leading to this moment.
Everything began when Nadakhan escaped his teapot prison and started granting wishes to the ninja team. One by one, his friends fell victim to the djinn's trickery, their wishes distorted against them. And now, here he was—a clone created by the original Lloyd's wish, tasked with saving his friends and all of Ninjago.
The weight of his responsibility pressed down on him like a physical force. He was acutely aware of his status: a clone, a mere reflection of the original Lloyd, yet now, he found himself unable to make a single wish. It was a frustrating paradox that gnawed at him, worsened by the knowledge that his friends were in danger.
"How annoying," Nadakhan muttered, floating around him with an air of disdain. The djinn's form shimmered ominously against the backdrop of the island, his multiple arms crossed in irritation. "I was hoping you could join the rest, but it seems that's not possible."
Lloyd looked up at Nadakhan, feeling a mix of anger and desperation. All around them, the island buzzed with activity; his fellow ninjas were scattered across its expanse, each making desperate wishes to combat the djinn's influence. But one of them was missing—Jay had been kidnapped by Nadakhan and his crew, taken away to who knew where. The thought of his friend in danger made Lloyd's heart race with worry.
"Wait, why can't I make a single wish?!" Lloyd exclaimed, rising to his knees in frustration. His fists clenched tightly at his sides as he struggled to contain his emotions. "I want to make a wish! I need to help my friends!"
Nadakhan regarded him with boredom, growing irritated by this complication in his grand scheme. "Well, there are certain rules," he said dismissively. "You can't wish for love, harm someone, or make more wishes. But in your case, I have a theory."
A sense of dread washed over Lloyd as he braced himself for what was coming. "Well…?" he prompted, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You're not a real person, are you?" Nadakhan asked with a cruel smile, circling Lloyd slowly like a predator toying with its prey. "You're merely a reflection without a true soul. That's why you cannot make a wish."
The weight of those words struck Lloyd like a physical blow. Frustration and despair washed over him in waves. He couldn't even help his friends—the very people he had sworn to protect. How could he continue living with this helpless knowledge? The original Lloyd had tasked him with aiding the ninjas, and now it felt as if he was failing them in the most fundamental way.
"I'd love to stay and chat," Nadakhan said dismissively, clearly weary of Lloyd's plight. "But I have plans to complete. Ninjago won't conquer itself, you know. Toodles." With that, the djinn vanished in a puff of orange smoke, leaving Lloyd alone in troubled contemplation.
Sitting on the ground of Tiger Widow Island, Lloyd's mind raced through their dire circumstances. The island itself loomed—a jagged rock formation adorned with lush greenery and vibrant colors that seemed almost alive under the tropical sun. Towering palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, while colorful flowers dotted the landscape. But beneath this serene facade lay danger; Kai and Zane were somewhere on the island, attempting to fend off Nadakhan's forces while Jay remained trapped aboard Nadakhan's ship—captured and at the mercy of the djinn.
What could he possibly do against such a formidable foe without the ability to wish? How could he hope to rescue Ninjago when he felt so powerless? The thought spiraled through his mind like an endless loop of despair.
Lloyd closed his eyes, striving to center himself. He recalled all the training he had undergone, all the challenges he had faced as the Green Ninja. Even if he was a clone, those memories and experiences were still a part of him. He had to believe in himself, in his abilities, and in his connection to his friends.
Suddenly, an idea sparked within him—a glimmer of hope igniting amidst the darkness of his thoughts. If he was right, perhaps he could find someone to help him—someone who had no choice but to assist against Nadakhan's tyranny, perhaps even one of Nadakhan's own crew members who might be sympathetic to their cause. After all, no one wanted Nadakhan to destroy Ninjago and claim whatever power he desired.
Lloyd jumped to his feet, determination surging through him like electricity. He may not possess a soul in the traditional sense, but he had something just as powerful: an unwavering will to protect his friends and their home. He could do this; all he had to do was rely on his training and utilize every resource at his disposal.
Now, he just needed to find Cole and Nya—his remaining allies—and escape this island before it was too late. With renewed purpose coursing through him, Lloyd set off across the rocky terrain of Tiger Widow Island. He may be a clone, but he was still a ninja, and ninjas never quit. No matter the challenges ahead, he would find a way to save his friends and stop Nadakhan, with or without his wishes.