Epilogue

He was an exile.

Thrown out from his world.

Forced to travel an endless expanse only to find himself stranded in the wasteland of Bara Magna.

Tuma stood on a peak along Skull Mountain, one of the tallest peaks as far as one could see. A giant, mechanical iron head had seemingly been grafted into the very mountains themselves — that or it had fallen there during the days of the Great Beings. Now, from this giant robot skull, he could perceive the whole world of Bara Magna stretched out before him.

The Skrall inhabiting the skull-shaped city of Roxtus looked like insects from up here. But each of those Skrall were intelligent beings with hopes and dreams. If Tuma had anything to do with it, those hopes would be realized and those dreams would come true.

He turned and swept his gaze across the face of Bara Magna. Even now, Vorox, Bone Hunters, and Skrall were active in the desert. Very very distantly he could make out the villages of the other Agori. Tuma knew they wouldn’t listen, even if he tried to warn them. They were so focused on their petty squabbles they would not pay any heed if they knew of the alien threat bearing down on their world even now.

No, he did not take much pleasure in the task that had fallen upon the Skrall now. Probably the Agori would see him as doing this purely for the sake of conquest. While Tuma did still stoke burning embers inside him that were left from the Core War, even he had to respect the life the Glatorian and the Agori had forged for themselves. There was a certain savage beauty in the way they had overcome their differences in the war. Certainly, Tuma had honored it enough to send warriors into the arena, if only to test the skill of their best warriors.

It was a pity that would have to come to an end.

His plan was a simple one:

First he had to align himself with some of the natives. As an alien to this new world, he had to garner whatever support he could before he stomped out any opposition to his purpose. Once any natives that desired to work with the Skrall were identified, he would handedly remove any final threats they might face.

Then, once the terrifying creations of the Great Beings were lured to the world of Bara Magna, Tuma would launch his final desperate measure. The Battle of Bara Magna would unfold in full. The Skrall and all who dared follow them would clash with the Baterra in a final showdown that would truly decide the fate of the planet.

Tuma’s eyes drifted to the northern mountain ranges that enclosed the world of Bara Magna, and the pass directly between them. He would be back, he swore. When the Baterra are defeated and it was safe to return to their prior world. When the Bone Hunters renewed their ancient vows to the lord of the rock tribe. When he forced back into submission the scattered Skrall he’d been forced to abandon on the journey south. When he could lead the Skrall back and reclaim the world they had lost. The empire of the Skrall would rise again.

One day he would be back. One day he would find a way home and reclaim his lost kingdom.

So as his eyes surveyed the incalculable space that he had travelled to this new land, only one phrase resounded through his head like the tolling of a bell. One phrase, one he would never forget until it should be fulfilled:

I will return.