The Guardian crawled across the meadow, ignoring the small wildlife and creatures that scattered in its path. They were not its target.

Pausing, it admired its own reflection in a pool of water, appreciating its clean sheen and well-carved symbols. It didn't know what any of them meant, no, but it was sure they were important.

Looking up, he saw a Hylian carrying a massive bag on its shoulders, being attacked by two figures in skintight suits. It ignored all of them. They were not its target.

It saw a flower and slowed to look at it. Sometimes, it wondered why its creators had not given it a sense of smell, but they surely knew better than it did. Regardless, it had to move on. The flower was not its target.

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Checking the small list in the corner of its vision, the Guardian wished it could sigh. Once, it had been a long checklist of carefully worded instructions, guidelines to make the construct a true defender of all that was good in the land.

Now it read only one line.

"Kill the hero."

As it read the instruction, it saw a Hylian dressed in green, holding a sword. Deep inside the Guardian, a collection of musical instruments began chiming frantically. Once, it would have been cause for gratitude to hear that chime. Now it was merely an alert for death.

A red laser flicked on inside the Guardian's singular eye, lining up on the green Hylian as a blue charge built up inside it.

It would not ignore the hero.

The hero was its target.