Chapter Six

The Shadowed One seethed. For several thousand years, he had prided himself on the meticulousness of his organization. His hunters were some of the most skilled warriors in the universe, and their operations had proceeded successfully under the law. He had been untouchable for ages. Now, he was in uncomfortably new territory.

The wildlife had not taken kindly to his hunters wandering the world. His fortress, haphazardly constructed from the wreckage of Xia, was unsteady and vulnerable. Worst of all? Nearly every major faction on the planet would be out for his head before long. He hadn’t survived Makuta’s reign by making friends, that much was sure.

So, he was quick to mobilize, gathering any forces he could that would oppose the Toa’s order. Exiled Glatorian, disgraced Skrall, escaped Skakdi prisoners, they were all welcomed with open arms into his army of hunters. He knew they would die, but at least not without purpose.

Next, he tracked down anyone he could trade with the Toa, in the off chance that it came to negotiation. A mysterious prison break had allowed him to recapture Roodaka and Tyrant, two members of his former ranks that had betrayed him. He could never trust them again, he knew, but should his plan fail, he could barter them for his freedom. Any creature his hunters found that had any promise of power was captured, and locked within the lower levels of his fortress.

He was desperate. He wasn’t too proud to admit that to himself. But when one’s entire universe comes crumbling to the ground, who wouldn’t be desperate?

Now, with his stockpile of power, he plotted his approach. He would need to strike at the Toa, before they could strike at him. He would establish his power on Spherus Magna, and crown himself as the planet’s new ruler. He had never believed much in the Matoran’s virtues, but he knew this was his destiny.

His plan was perfect, but he had encountered some complications. There had been a breakout in the lower levels of his fortress, and now, Malum the exile had slain one of his hunters. He took these attacks as an omen that he needed to act fast. Once the Toa Nuva were located, he would mobilize his army, and the war would begin. Waiting longer would be better, he knew, but he had no way of knowing if he would be ready later on. He was ready now, though. He would tolerate no more distractions.

Which was why he had little patience when a crimson armored warrior burst through his main door.

From atop the Shadowed One’s throne, it was like watching a wildfire spread through a forest. Flanked by two Vorox, the Glatorian had roared as he crashed into the room, and immediately began tearing his way through the legion of Dark Hunters, making his way to the center.

As Sentrakh growled in anticipation. the master of the Dark Hunters decided that there had been enough. He slammed his staff against the floor of his platform, an echo resounding throughout the chamber, and drawing everyone’s attention to the center. Even the Vorox paused in their attack for just a moment, their eyes transfixed on the shadowy figure atop the throne.

“Warrior,” the Shadowed One spoke, “state your business before you go any further.”

The Glatorian shouldered past two Dark Hunters, taking another step closer. “I am Malum, ruler of the wastes. I have tracked your hunters here, after they slaughtered my people, the Vorox. I command you to leave my desert, or I will burn this fortress to the ground.”

The Shadowed One chuckled, amused by Malum’s boldness. “Yes, Malum, I have heard of your exploits. The desert is your domain, but you have earned it by right of conquest.” He smiled, and his platform began to lower to the ground. “I am quite familiar with conquest.”

As the throne descended, Malum glared in confusion. “What are you proposing?”

“A challenge,” the dark one continued, “one on one combat. To the victor, go the spoils.”

Malum’s interest was piqued. “Sounds like an arena match. It has been quite a while since I was able to participate in one.” He pushed his way through the crowd, and at last stepped atop the platform. “I won’t go easy on you.”

The Shadowed One grinned, rising from his throne. “I’m counting on it.”

✴        ✴        ✴

CRASH!

The metallic wall crumbled from a blast of energized protodermis. The rays of the sun suddenly poured into the dark and empty halls. Through the gaping metal hole, three figures climbed up, slowly making their way in one at a time.

As Gavla stood in the hallway they had entered, she took in the surroundings of the room. Around the hallway, she saw a row of prison cells, each empty with the door hanging ajar. In the center of the hallway lay a corpse armored in blue and gray.

“Well,” Metus quipped as he moved into the room, “somebody’s been through here.”

“Looks like a breakout,” Ahkmou remarked.

“Yeah,” Gavla said. “But who was imprisoned here?”

Suddenly, the gate behind them shuddered as it flung open. “Hello, little Matoran,” a sinister voice uttered.

Turning back, the three came face to face with a towering figure clad in mismatched armor, with a variety of weapons across his back.

Gavla eyed up the patchwork figure, and spotted a familiar helmet strapped across his shoulder, one that belonged to Hydraxon. “Where did you get that?!” she cried.

He smiled, brushing some dust off of his shoulder. “This old thing? He barely put up a fight…”

She pointed her sword straight at the figure’s chest. If Hydraxon was alive, she knew he may try to track her down once more. She would need to tie up that loose end. “I need to know where he is.”

The figure glanced at the empty cells. “By the looks of it,” he sighed, “you know about as much as I do.” With a shrug, he casually drew a crimson blade, and swept it across the ground. Ahkmou’s eyes widened, but he had no time to react as the blade struck him and Metus, slamming them into the wall.

Gavla was the only one of the group left standing, betraying no fear as she stared down the towering figure. A blade still raised, she scowled. “Hydraxon,” she muttered, “tell me what you know of him. Why did you take him?”

The figure smiled, and a Kanoka launcher atop his shoulder lowered down, pointing straight at her. “None of your business, little lady. Now, I’d offer you a chance to leave, but I get the feeling my boss won’t be too happy about that hole in the wall.”

She grimaced, then roared, lunging forward, and struck as her blade pierced the ground. Her attack was fierce, but the opponent was fast.

“That’s cute,” he remarked. “Almost scared me for a second there.”

She growled, swinging forward once more. This time, her blades clashed with her opponent’s own, but his strength quickly shoved her back. Sparks crackled from the edge of his weapon as it rested on the floor.

Gatherer chuckled as he pushed her back. Having been a Matoran himself before becoming a Dark Hunter, he knew better than to underestimate these fighters. But he also knew that he severely outmatched them.

“You can’t win this,” he taunted. “But hey, keep trying. Maybe I’ll even get a new Kaukau for my collection. I don’t think I have one in blue.”

“You can pry it off my corpse,” Gavla spat.

“That’s the idea.”

She ran forward again, this time leaping to put momentum into her attack, but to no avail. The gatherer struck her in the gut, sending her falling to the ground.

When the Matoran didn’t rise for a moment, Gatherer grinned, and took a steady step over towards where she had fallen. Raising his weapon, he prepared to finish the job.

But as he moved over to do so, a click made him stop in his tracks.

Turning on a heel, Gatherer came to face the Po-Matoran he had knocked out earlier, aiming a launcher straight at him.

Ahkmou quivered, pointing the Zamor launcher forward. The sphere of energized protodermis rested within the barrel, primed to be shot forward with one pull of the trigger.

“You know what this does?” he demanded, his voice still shaky. “Energized protodermis. Either it’ll kill you, or transform you. Want to find out?”

Gatherer grimaced, and straightened up. “Put that down,” he said calmly.

Ahkmou gulped, but held the launcher steady. On either side of the imposing figure, Gavla and Metus lay unmoving. Unconscious, he assumed, but if he left the Dark Hunter alone, he knew they would be dead. Even if he escaped, he would be alone again.

Then, he thought back to Gavla, and how she had stood up to Malum, even when the odds were against her. She was always so confident, more than he ever was. What would she do in his shoes?

He had told her that he was all she had to count on. That no one else was going to stand up for her.

And so, he did.

The Dark Hunter grimaced, his expression darkening. “Last chance. Put it down.”

Even if Ahkmou had wavered, he didn’t have a chance to follow through. A low growl resonated through the hall, followed by rapid, heavy footsteps. The gatherer turned, and gasped as a large, black and silver beast charged forward, grabbing him by the chest. The Po-Matoran watched as the two soared over him, crashing into the ground just behind him.

“Savage!” Gatherer yelled, jabbing at the beast that pinned him down. “Stop it! Get off!”

The creature roared, wailing on the hunter with its massive fists. Gatherer struggled to rise, doing his best to calm the beast, but to no avail. Wrangling Savage was often his responsibility, one that he regularly dreaded. As the Hordika’s fist came crashing down on him once again, he groaned, dreading the beating he was about to receive.

Ahkmou cocked his head to the side, watching as the two’s fight progressed further down the hall.

“Huh,” he said aloud, slowly turning around. “I guess that works.”

Without a second thought, he knelt down to assist his fallen comrades.

“Hey,” he whispered to Gavla, shaking her gently. “Come on, we need to move.”

The Av-Matoran groaned, slowly rising to her feet. Beside her, Metus lumbered upward, coughing quietly.

“What was that?” the Agori asked, straightening his helmet out.

“No time,” Ahkmou said, his voice hushed. “What’s our next move?”

Gavla frowned. “Hydraxon’s alive, somewhere in here. If we don’t find him, he’ll find us.”

“Who’s Hydraxon?” asked Metus.

“Somebody who’s bad side you don’t want to get on,” Ahkmou explained. “But if we can convince him, he may be able to free us from Malum.”

Metus’ eyes lit up. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

And so, the three unlikely allies descended deeper into the fortress, even as the floor rumbled unsteadily.

✴        ✴        ✴

Malum slashed forward with his flame claws, charging at the dark figure before him. The Shadowed One dodged to the side, and chuckled.

“You’re weak,” the leader of the Dark Hunters taunted. “It’s a wonder you’ve ruled for this long. You wouldn’t have lasted a day in my legions.”

The crimson warrior snarled, and lunged forward, this time grabbing the Shadowed One by the neck. “Your legions?” he scoffed, tightening his grip. “You are a master of criminals and misfits. You’re nothing but a crook, playing at being a ruler.”

The Shadowed One choked, and swung his staff forward, freeing himself from Malum’s grip. Jumping back with a groan, he landed on two feet, using his tail to balance himself. His eyes glowed a sinister red as he growled. “If that isn’t the Rahkshi calling the Kinloka vile,” he chuckled. Thrusting his head forward, two beams of red light shot out from his eyes, singing a piece of the ex-Glatorian’s armor. Within moments, the plate of armor shattered to pieces. “You tried to rule, long ago, and it destroyed this world,” he continued as he steadily approached the red armored warrior. “Now, you feast off of what remains, living among the creatures and scavengers.”

They traded blows again, Malum landing a quick yet heavy strike on the Shadowed One. The master of the Dark Hunters had elected not to use his powers for now, wanting to test the extent of the exile’s abilities.

With a roar, Malum swung his claw forward, only for it to be caught by the Shadowed One’s hand. He grunted, pulling violently back on his arm in an effort to get it free, but the dark master was unmoving. “You had your shot,” his enemy said, “it’s my turn.”

Malum thrust forward his other hand, striking the Shadowed One. It was a light attack, but enough to loosen his grip. With a slide back, the champion of the Sand Tribe freed himself, and grabbed the Shadowed One by the back of his head. Before he had a chance to react, Malum thrust his own helmeted head forward, striking his opponent’s head with his own.

“I’ve seen my share of tyrants,” the crimson warrior snarled as he thrust a knee forward into his enemy’s gut. “You’re all the same. Desperate, clinging to your precious power.” Releasing, he let the Shadowed One collapse to the ground, and stood over him. “You’re afraid. Afraid that your power will be stripped away, and all those you oppressed will at last take their revenge.” He stared into the eyes of the Dark Hunter leader. “That is why I am better. I have no such fear.”

Leaning over, he lifted the Shadowed One’s staff off of the ground, and pointed it square at the dark one’s head.

Looking behind him, the Shadowed One saw Darkness lurking behind the throne, a malicious expression on his face. The battle had been fun, but Malum had ceased to be amusing. He elected to end the act.

“Wait…” the dark one croaked, struggling to catch his breath.

Malum paused for only a moment. “Say your piece.”

The Shadowed One grinned. “It will be the last words you ever hear.” As he spoke, his strength suddenly seemed to return, his voice returning to its full cadence. His right hand suddenly shot upwards and grabbed the staff in Malum’s hands. The ex-Glatorian struggled to hold it in place, but was helpless to stop the Shadowed One from turning the tip in his direction. As soon as it pointed towards Malum, a seal of solid protodermis began forming around the warrior’s chest, and spread further across his body.

The crimson warrior stared down at his own body, and watched as the crystalline substance began to overtake him. “What…” he muttered, and tried to free his hands from the staff, but it was no use, as his hands had also been sealed. He tried to step back, but his legs were frozen in place. He roared in desperation, as his body was slowly covered in crystal protodermis.

The Shadowed One rose to his full height, setting the spear to the side as he looked down on Malum. Only the warrior’s face was exposed now, and it was seething.

“Finish the job,” Malum growled. “Or are you too much of a coward to take a life?”

“I have taken many lives,” the Shadowed One muttered as he walked to the edge of the platform. “I will not hesitate to kill an enemy who deserves it. You, my friend, are not worthy of such a fate.” With that, he held up his spear, and gazed down at the two Vorox far below. With a brief charge, twin Rhotuka spinners shot out from his spear, each striking one of the sand dwellers. Within moments, the two creatures lunged at each other, clawing and tearing at one another’s flesh.

With the ferocity of wild beasts, the two Vorox disregarded all reason, and carnage ensued.

“How very… fragile,” the Shadowed One muttered. “My Rhotuka inflicts its targets with madness, their capacity for reason has been removed. I was curious as to how your Vorox would respond to it, being such primitive creatures. Now we know.”

Malum watched on helplessly, unable to move as the two Vorox ripped each other apart. “Monster!”

Turning on a heel, the Shadowed One actually looked offended. “You lead them to this fate!” he spat. Looking to the ground, he glanced at the remains of the two Vorox, and smiled. “This fortress will be abandoned soon, it will serve no further use to us. If you manage to survive, you may escape, and run back to your pack.” He ran a clawed finger across the ex-Glatorian’s helmet. “You tell them what happened to your two scouts. You will explain to them in their primitive tongue the danger of my rule, that not even the mighty champion of the Sand Tribe could defeat me.”

Malum seethed in anger, but closed his eyes, remaining silent.

“Round up your allies,” the Shadowed One continued. “Recover, rebuild. Make any new alliances you need to in order to survive. But try as you may, you will never live down the humiliation of today. You will never forget that I beat you.”

With a smile, he leaned forward on his staff, as the platform began to lower to the ground. Turning to face the chamber, he watched as the Dark Hunters began gathering once more.

Soon it will all be complete, he thought to himself. My destiny draws near.