[Lake Hylia]

Ding! Ah, Rein is much, much better at solving these puzzles than I. While working with this set of numbers wasn't too bad, the last time I tried solving one of these 8-puzzles outside of using a computer simulation, I ended up whipping out my brother's handy-dandy screwdriver and dismantling the whole darn thing instead of legitimately solving it.

It would appear as though all that time-consuming mental work wasn't pointless or a waste as, when Rein opens the chest he'll find...

(Cue appropriate music.)

Dun! Dun! Dun! DUUUUN!

A chainsaw chaingun with a flamethrower mod.

Now I know from a lecture that was delivered to me by a lumberjack that chainsaws aren't, within the confines of strict, stark, bleak reality, good weapons for slaying anything but trees. They stall and liquid getting into the machine really gums up its works. That's why this particular chainsaw's blade is a projection of heated hard light. A bent, grooved laser beam, no less. Gripped from the back and top as it is, with sleek leather insulating pads lining both of these areas, the chaingun barrel could only be mounted inside of the weapon, the laser ripper chain projected around it. The chaingun is fed bullets through a box on its right. The loaded bullets at current are gyroscopically stabilized fragmentation bullets. Mounted underneath is a tube which spews fire with the press of a trigger near the back grip. Squeeze the back grip itself to fire the chaingun and set that chainsaw a spinning with a quick smacking of the big red "Chainsaw On" button on the side.

Oh, and the midnight black weapon of death seems to have a name engraved on its side too. That name is "Margret".

Looks like Mister Chief-of-Security had a premonition that this building would be overrun by zombies a long, long time ago.

There's also something else in the box, visible only when the chainsaw-chaingun is removed...

It it a slip of paper which reads,

"In light, the dark. In dark, the light. Things that go bump in the night."

-------
[Weathered Ruins]

Hey! What's that up ahead. No. It can't be. It couldn't be. It must be a mirage. It just has to be. Why... What would something like that be doing all the way out here?

There is a door floating in the air not far from Mister C's position. Behind it, Mister C might hear the drunken merriment of an inebriated NPC or two or seventy more like.

Yep, that's a bona fide door leading to Trog's floating in the middle of this arid, arid desert! Why? Because Trog's is universal and Mister C doesn't need to walk for days upon days to take his leave of this hot, hot desert.