Chapter Four

Through the desert, two Dark Hunters rode on a two seater bike, engine roaring as they raced across the sands. The arid sun was finally beginning to set, threatening to abandon the world in darkness.

Strakk, being a native to Spherus Magna, was quick to voice his discomfort. “I don’t like this.”

The other hunter, known only as Prototype, sighed. “So you’ve said. Repeatedly.”

“The Vorox will be on us soon,” said the ex-Glatorian. “Your people have killed enough of them to anger the pack.”

“‘Your people’?” Prototype laughed. “You’re a Dark Hunter too now, remember. If they attack one of us, they attack all of us.” As he spoke, his eyes drifted to a rocky outcropping in the desert, leading to a cavern. He could just make out the mouth of the cave as the last beams of the sun reflected off of it. “Hey, what’s that?”

Strakk met his gaze, and his jaw dropped. “That’s Malum’s domain,” he said in a hushed tone, “you’ll want to steer clear.”

“Malum?” the hunter inquired, already slowing the bike to a halt. “Who’s that?”

The ex-Glatorian opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself suddenly. An idea dawned on his mind, and he pulled the vehicle to a halt. Ever since his mistake of attacking Ackar while unarmed in the arena, he had been an outcast, unappreciated for anything he did. But now, he spotted an opportunity to receive some recognition from his new master, the Shadowed One.

“Oh, he’s just some crazy Glatorian who took over the Vorox,” he finally said. “One of Bara Magna’s strongest warriors. I wouldn’t recommend picking a fight with him, he’s probably too strong for you.”

Prototype’s expression contorted to a frown. Without a second thought, he dismounted from the bike, and turned towards the cavern. “Nobody’s too strong for me,” he said. “I’ll show him his place.”

“Be careful!” Strakk warned, hardly able to hide his smile as Prototype marched towards Malum. “You’ve never faced him before!”

“And he’s never faced me before,” Prototype replied.

✴        ✴        ✴

As night fell on the desert, the Vorox cavern became cloaked in darkness. A cool breeze rushed through the entrance, enough to send a shiver down the spines of the cavern’s inhabitants.

As Malum rested through the night, the Vorox stood guard outside his chamber, ensuring that no one would be able to get through without him knowing. Throughout the night, his sleep had not been disturbed. Not even by the loud rumble of crumbling stone that resounded throughout the cavern.

“Gavla!” Ahkmou shouted through a whisper, “They could’ve heard that!”

The Av-Matoran grunted. “Doesn’t matter,” she said, “we’ll be long gone by the time they come to investigate.” With a deep grunt, she clawed again at the wall, boring the hole slightly deeper. Debris trickled out of the dent as she rested once more.

“If I may,” Metus chimed in, “I wouldn’t recommend this. The Vorox are prime hunters, they’ll find you before you’re even halfway to Creep Canyon.”

“So what?” Gavla asked, turning to face the Agori. “We just lay down our weapons and surrender? Just give up all hope?”

The Ice Agori smirked, and rested his hands behind his head. “Hey, that’s what I’m doing.”

Groaning, Gavla struck the wall again, sending another small tremor rumbling through the ground. Ahkmou jumped to his feet. “Gavla!” he chided. “He’ll kill you if he catches you trying to escape!”

Gavla growled, and whirled around. “If you’re not going to help, just stay out of my way! I’ll get out of here on my own.”

“You’re no use to me dead,” Ahkmou returned. “I know that I won’t make it out there alone, and your chances aren’t much better. If we’re going to survive, we’re going to do it together.”

“You wish,” Gavla groaned. “The first chance I get, I’m running. I trust you would do the same.”

Ahkmou sighed. “You know me so well.”

Rolling her eyes, the Av-Matoran slammed a fist into the wall, and a low rumbling sound echoed throughout the cavern. Ahkmou quickly jumped back, his eyes darting up and down.

“Great,” Metus shrugged, “now we all die in a cave in.”

Gavla examined the ceiling, but strangely, the stone didn’t seem to shake. “It’s not the cave,” she muttered. Slowly, the rumbling came to a stop, and out of the corner of her eye, Gavla spotted a light peering into the cavern.

“Somebody’s here,” she realized. “Everyone down! Now!”

The three of them quickly ducked low to the ground, listening intently. Footsteps echoed through the cavern, alerting the Vorox guards to move toward the cave mouth. Without warning, a blast sounded, echoing through the cavern as a warm red light covered the walls. Moments later, a Vorox dropped into the pit, missing an arm and its tail. By the time it landed, it was already dead.

“What the-” Ahkmou whispered, before placing a hand over his mouth.

The Vorox shrieked as they scampered about, drawing spears as they moved to attack, but they were quickly picked off, one by one. At last, a roar echoed throughout the cave. Malum had awoken.

The battle was over quickly after that. The Matoran could hear a vehicle starting up and driving away outside, and the screams of injured Vorox quickly were laid to rest. Flames lit up the room in an instant, only to be extinguished just as fast.

Before the Matoran could question what had happened, an unconscious armored figure dropped into the sandy pit, clattering unceremoniously to the ground. It was a strange creature, looking to be more machine than organic, with red and black armor adorning its body.

Ahkmou looked up, and locked eyes with a furious Malum.

“Your Toa,” he hissed, “they have killed my people.”

Gavla looked to the armored being, and then to the ex-Glatorian. “This?” She laughed. “We’ve seen our fair share of Toa. This is no Toa.”

At that, the attacker groaned, slowly raising his head. “...Toa?” he muttered, softly. “Oh, right. I was Toa, once…”

The crimson warrior growled. Leaping forward, he crashed down into the pit, thundering the ground as he landed. Slowly, he rose to his full height, towering over his prisoners and the littered corpses. “It matters not,” he muttered, “these machines are all the same. I should’ve known better than to try and reason with them.” He stomped on the attacker’s back, causing him to yelp. “The answer is clear.”

Malum drew back his claws, but suddenly stopped. Turning around, he came face to face with Gavla, holding a dagger of pure light up to the ex-Glatorian. “Do it, then,” the Av-Matoran spat. “Kill us, and risk what was once just the occasional casualty becoming an all out hunt for you. The Toa Nuva, Toa Mahri, maybe even the Hagah.”

Ahkmou looked up at Gavla in astonishment, wondering from where she had mustered such bravery.

Gavla did her best to judge Malum’s expression. “What of the Toa Mangai, or the Cordak?” she added, bluffing to strengthen her point. “Lhikan himself will march upon your cavern with an army of hundreds of Toa. You really think that’s something you wanna take on?”

Malum seethed. “I’ve survived everything thus far. Let them come.”

“At the risk of your people?” Ahkmou piped up, stepping out from behind her. “You’d let them die for the purpose of your own ego?” For once, he did not shake as he spoke.

Metus rose to his feet, and steadily came over to face Malum. “And if they’re dead,” he said with a level of confidence he was not used to, “who will there be to defend you? There’s plenty of people still alive on Spherus Magna who still want to see your head on a stick.”

Malum was silent for a moment. His muscles still tensed, he exhaled, and locked eyes with Gavla. “What do you offer, then? Or is this merely begging?”

Gavla smirked. “I’ll never beg again.” Extinguishing the light, she looked down at the strange figure on the ground. “Give us back our weapons, and we can keep this thing in check. We force him to take us to wherever he came from, and help you get your revenge. Once that happens, you let us go free, and we appeal to the leaders from our world to keep your desert free.”

Malum frowned, and looked down at the beaten figure by his feet. Grabbing him by the neck, he raised him up into the air. “What is your name, hunter?”

The figure struggled, gasping for air. “It… It has been forgotten for some time… Now I am called Prototype.”

“Very well,” he growled. “Will you lead us to whatever hole you crawled out of?”

Prototype’s expression turned into a frown. “Never,” he spat. “You can kill me if you desire. But my loyalties are to the Shadowed One!”

With a shove, Malum dropped the hunter to the ground, before reaching over to the rocky ledge above him. He retrieved one of the Matoran’s weapons, a zamor launcher loaded with a sphere of energized protodermis inside, and pointed it down at him.

“Let’s try that again,” Malum growled. “Take us to your master.”

Prototype chuckled softly. “Stupid. I’ve seen energized protodermis before. Nothing hurts me. What could you do?”

Malum frowned. He had suspected for a long time that the creations of the Great Beings utilized that substance his world once went to war over. But now, having so much power in his hands…

“You are too much metal to sustain my Vorox,” Malum growled. “You would make for a poor meal. But you have threatened my people for too long. For that… you must pay.”

With that, he fired off the zamor sphere at the Dark Hunter.

✴        ✴        ✴

This is perfect, Strakk thought to himself, watching the cavern entrance from afar. Prototype will get Malum killed, and I’ll take all the credit. The Shadowed One will be so pleased.

Sitting back in the seat of his bike, the ex-Glatorian looked on with a satisfied grin, waiting for any sign from his Dark Hunter companion.

But instead of what he had hoped, the sound of pained screams rang out through the air, startling Strakk to jump out of his seat. Scrambling up to his feet, he looked on in shock as the agonized wails echoed on, waiting with dread.

For a few minutes, there was nothing. Only the screaming that seemed to carry on without end. Strakk winced, unable to imagine just what could be happening in there to cause such suffering. He wanted to run, in fear of what could be waiting for him if he stayed. But despite himself, he stayed, eyes trained on the cavern.

Almost more haunting was the silence that followed, when the cries finally came to an abrupt halt.

And then, a crimson figure emerged from within the cavern, his body trembling with fury. It was a sight that was hauntingly familiar to Strakk, watching as Malum marched towards him. He had seen the warrior during one of his last brushes with death, in the fateful match that had decided Malum’s fate all that time ago.

Now, Strakk found himself left to the same unforgiving wasteland that Malum was. There would be no rules to protect him this time.

By the time Malum’s gaze had landed in Strakk’s direction, he had departed, starting his bike and speeding off as fast as possible. His vehicle tore through the desert, putting as much distance between him and Malum as possible.

Watching him leave, Malum’s expression turned into a smile. That’s right. Lead me to him.

✴        ✴        ✴

Morning’s first warm rays stretched across the desert, turning the cool blue sands to a warm gold.

As the arid heat set in once more, Metus groaned, wiping away the sweat that trickled through the eye holes in his helmet. It had been two weeks now since he had been inside a proper hut, and he was dying for some rest and relaxation.

And what’s stopping me? He thought for just a moment. Why can’t I just leave these guys behind, make a new life somewhere nice and isolated?

Of course, the obvious answer was the hulking red chief of the Vorox that led the group. Flanked by two of his Vorox as they chased the trail, Malum was not likely to take kindly to runaways.

And yet, it wasn’t the threat of his revenge that frightened Metus. After all, he had been up against far more powerful beings as of late, and still managed to survive. No, it was something the Iron Agori, Sahmad, had said to him.

You’re only in the middle of nowhere, unarmed, with no idea how to get home, and no home to go to.

As much as he hated to admit it, the Ice Agori knew Sahmad was right. There was nothing left for him in the villages of the former Bara Magna. The residents of the Matoran Universe were unlikely to take him in, based on the reaction he garnered from those Matoran, and he knew for a fact he wasn’t cut out for Bota Magna’s natives.

Whether he liked it or not, Metus was stuck fighting a war for Malum.

Further up in the group, Ahkmou leaned over to Gavla. “We should go,” he murmured, being careful not to let his words be heard by any of the others. “He won’t notice we’re gone until it’s too late.”

“Maybe not,” Gavla replied, “but our chances aren’t much better elsewhere. Your service to Makuta hasn’t done us any favors.”

The Po-Matoran scoffed. “It allowed us to survive during his reign.”

Gavla paused. “Survive…” She seemed lost in thought as she walked. “I’ve spent so long surviving. First Karda Nui, then under Makuta, now Spherus Magna… I’m ready to do more than survive.” She shook her head, and shot a vicious glare at Ahkmou. “Besides, why this loyalty to him? You accomplished nothing, other than burning bridges.”

Ahkmou sighed, and turned away. “I’m not loyal to Makuta, but he gave me a second chance. A new lease on life. He rescued me when the Toa left me for dead. I’m not going to waste it. I’m going to survive, whatever that takes.”

She scoffed. “You’re spineless. A coward.”

“Maybe,” Ahkmou shook his head, then looked to his companion. “But I’m all you’ve got.”

A loud whistle brought the trio to attention. As Malum stood on a rocky cliffside, his traveling companions gathered around.

“This is the spot?” asked Metus.

“My Vorox have tracked the vehicle here,” Malum said.

A small Zesk scraped by Malum’s leg, before sniffing the tracks left in the ground below. Three more Vorox stood behind Malum, awaiting his command. The Sand Tribe was one of excellent trackers, and if the ex-Glatorian was correct, they had once more found their target.

Down below was a familiar sight, a piece of the fallen mechanical corpse that Makuta Teridax once inhabited. The robot had already sustained heavy damage from the battle, but now it had been slowly picked apart by salvage teams, its metal stripped away for shelter. What remained was a hollowed out husk, with little life left in it.

But near the neck of the robot, Malum spotted something. There was a large metal dome that had fallen out of place, spilling out onto the outside world. The front of the dome had been carved open, not just by damage from battle, but seemingly it had been intentionally picked apart. Within, there was a single tower standing tall amidst the wreckage, reaching from the floor to touch the ceiling, although he couldn’t be sure which was which. The tower seemed to be cobbled together from pieces of scrap, with mismatched metals awkwardly welded together to create a structure.

Surrounding the fortress was an enormous fleet, populated with a variety of different vehicles. Among them, he could recognize some Glatorian vehicles, as well as others like the one that he had retrieved the Matoran from. Most curious, however, was the massive airship that hovered above, casting a shadow over them all.

“Interesting…” the crimson warrior mused. He turned to his Vorox aide, and spoke in her tongue.

“They spoke of others. A being called ‘the Shadowed One’,” he muttered. “I wish to know what threat he poses.”

The Vorox chittered in uncertain whispers. “You are getting distracted,” she said. “We should be focused on keeping our desert free.”

“And it will be. But you see the extent of that fortress. Knowledge will be our aide in this quest.” He looked back to the fortress. “You will return to our pack, and keep them safe in my absence.” He pointed toward the two other Vorox. “You two, join me. Together, we will fight for our people.”

The three Vorox whispered amongst themselves for a moment, before Malum’s aide turned back to him. “Very well. Lead on.”

As the Vorox aide left, leading the Zesk back with her on her way to the cavern, the ex-Glatorian turned to his gathering of small warriors. “This is our target,” he said. “Those who have hunted my people all this time, are waiting within.”

Gavla nodded. “We’ve kept our end of the bargain, then.”

“Not quite,” Malum retorted. “I could use the backup.”

Ahkmou balked. “What? No, we’ve done what we promised!”

“He’s right,” Metus added. “Besides, what help would we be against the Shadowed One?”

Malum chuckled. “Relax. You won’t be facing the Shadowed One. That destiny is mine.”

“Then… why send us?” asked Ahkmou.

“Because,” Malum said, “if his servants are too busy hunting you, then they cannot overwhelm me. I do not want my battle to be interrupted.”

With that, he retrieved the two Matoran’s weapons from behind his back, and handed them out. Ahkmou balked as the zamor sphere launcher was placed in his hands. “Is that it? We’re just going to charge into the remains of our universe, with no idea what’s waiting for us? Has the world turned upside down?”

Gavla smirked, patting him on the shoulder in silence.

His gaze shifted to Metus, who only shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re all mad,” Ahkmou muttered, “you’re all going to die.”

“Maybe,” the Agori smirked. “But it’s not like we’ve got much to live for.”