Through my ever-watchful scrying spell, I observed the unfolding chaos with a calm detachment that only centuries of power could bring. The skeletons had acquired the three golden weapons, and the balance of the world was shifting once more. Their movements, calculated yet brutish, were the perfect example of what happens when power falls into inexperienced hands.
Kai, ever impulsive, had gone off on his own. Manipulated by Garmadon's subtle influence, he sought the Sword of Fire. I could barely suppress a smirk as I watched him struggle. His Shadow—a manifestation of his own growing inner turmoil—attacked him with precision and cruelty. The fight was messy, clumsy, yet revealing. Every misstep, every hesitation, every instinct of fear and reaction was cataloged and stored in my mind. Even the most skilled elemental warriors could be unprepared against an opponent as cunning as one's own reflection.
Then came Wu. The master's calm wisdom and formidable skill contrasted sharply with Kai's reckless approach. He intervened with precision, countering both Garmadon's manipulation and Kai's vulnerability. Every movement was a lesson in strategy, a demonstration of control and power that I absorbed carefully. Wu's timing, his understanding of space and force, his ability to predict both allies and enemies—these were all invaluable.
And yet, I saw what was coming before anyone else did. Wu, in his noble sacrifice, descended into the Underworld to save Kai. His body disfigured, his form partially lost, the moment was tragic yet inevitable. I watched, feeling nothing akin to fear or sorrow, only a cold calculation. Wu's absence would create a vacuum in leadership, a destabilization in the elemental balance. That vacuum could be exploited.
Kai, now left on his own again, staggered beneath the weight of responsibility, his youthful fire tempered by fear and uncertainty. I noted every emotional beat, every hesitation, every instinctive reaction. These moments were far more revealing than any formal battle. The cracks in their confidence, the gaps in their knowledge—they were weaknesses to be remembered for future application.
From my hidden vantage, I allowed the events to unfold fully. The skeletons, the golden weapons, Kai's struggle, and Wu's sacrifice—all of it was a lesson in human (and elemental) behavior. I took careful note of every strength and every flaw, every tactical choice and every impulsive mistake.
For centuries, I had watched Ninjago unfold in patterns I already knew. And yet, there was something almost… entertaining about observing this new generation stumble and grow. Their successes were small, fleeting, but they left traces of potential that I would catalog and exploit when the time came.
As the dust settled, I withdrew my scrying gaze slightly, letting the chaos settle into memory. Wu's sacrifice would ripple through the world. Kai's heart burned with renewed determination. The golden weapons, now in their possession or influence, would reshape the battles to come.
And I, as always, remained in the shadows. Watching. Waiting. Planning.
The game of Ninjago continued, but every move, every misstep, every moment of weakness was another piece I could place on my ever-growing board of dominion.
The future was unfolding. And I was ready.