CHAPTER SEVEN
-30,000 Years Ago-
"A Mask of... what is it, Biomechanics? Tsk, tsk, that simply will not do."
As the black and gold being discarded Velika's former mask, he quickly replaced it with an old Kanohi Komau. After affixing the mask to the Po-Matoran's face, Karzahni grinned widely.
"There now, isn't that better?"
Not really, Velika thought as he looked over his 'rebuilt' body. Karzahni was certainly no Artakha, but even a Nynrah Ghost could have done a better job than this. He was notably a lot shorter and more hunched than he was before.
"I admit, it's not my best," the mad tyrant said. "Here, to make up for that, why don't you select a pair of tools."
Karzahni then dropped down a pile of rusty tools onto the ground. Velika picked up a pair of Power Carvers, intending only to examine them, but Karzahni quickly got rid of the rest before he had a chance to survey them.
"Excellent choice," the madman said, a wide grin plastered onto his Kanohi Olisi. "Now, how about we test your repairs by getting you to work?"
With a sag of his shoulders, Velika headed over to the factories of Karzahni's realm, listening as the ground screamed with each step he took and glancing at the 'sculptures' of lazy Matoran. Burning ice spewed from volcanoes and dust descended from waterfalls.
In his life on Spherus Magna, he had thought there was no such thing as a realm of Chaos, a place where doom was eternal. Now, he had been proven wrong.
Touche, Angonce.
-Present-
Chiara was the first to move in response to the Zauran. Lightning crackled from the tip of her Strike Spear and into the creature's mouth, causing the giant lizard to recoil in pain. Next was Zaria, who lifted his Iron Hammer and swung it at the Zauran's bulky legs.
As the beast let out a furious wail, Gelu turned to Orde and shouted, "Can you lift me up towards the Zauran's head?"
Orde blinked as he computed the Glatorian's request before nodding. He then used his telekinetic powers to lift Gelu off the ground and up towards the lizard's head. The Zauran fumed upon seeing the Ice warrior and attempted to attack him with its maw, but Orde's telekinesis moved him away in time.
The Toa of Psionics then released Gelu from his control and the Glatorian landed right onto the Zauran's head. He then raised his Ice Slicer and was about to plunge the blade into its head when the beast suddenly reared up on its hind legs and let out a terrible roar.
As Gelu slid down the Zauran's back, a shrill cry broke through the jungle and the lizard responded with another roar. Then, apparently forgetting about Gelu, the Toa, and the Matoran, the Zauran headed into the thickness of the green and vanished.
Just as Gelu was getting back on to his feet, a green-armored figure appeared from where the Zauran had disappeared to. Gelu and the Toa instantly readied their tools again but the green warrior raised his arms.
"Wait," he said. "I mean you no harm. In fact, I just saved your hides from that thing."
"You mean you're the one who uttered that cry?" asked Zaria, lowering his Iron Hammer.
The stranger nodded. "Indeed. My name is-"
"Oris," Gelu said bitterly, keeping his Ice Slicer trained on the being. "I remember you. You served in the Core War, for the Jungle Tribe."
The green Glatorian raised an eyebrow. "Why, yes, I did. However, I don't recall having ever faced you on the battlefield."
Gelu's azure eyes flared. "It was at Gatherer's Ridge, near Tesara. I was under the command of Certavus, you under Vastus. Ring any bells?"
"Perhaps," Oris grunted. "It was over a hundred millennia ago. Why is it relevant now?"
"You killed quite a few of our men," Gelu said coldly. "Including my brother."
Oris blinked. "Your brother, eh? Well then, I'm deeply sorry for that. We were at war and, you know, all Ice Glatorian looked the same to me."
"Doesn't matter," Gelu said as he kicked the Jungle Glatorian square in the chest. As Oris fell to the ground, Gelu stood over him and raised his blade. "I have waited long enough for this."
-30,000 Years Ago-
He had lost track of time. Ever since he had arrived at this accursed place, he had been hammering away- at what and for what, he did not know- and knew nothing but his name and past, but even those were becoming hazier as time dragged on.
As he worked on, he suddenly felt something warm inside his chest. It burned, as if someone had lit a fire inside of him. He had felt it before, long before the Shattering. But now, it raged in him stronger than before, wanting to be let out, like a beast rattling its cage.
It was anger.
He stopped his hammering. The cessation of noise was more deafening than any gentle breeze on Karzahni, for the other Matoran ceased working as well and turned to look at the still Po-Matoran. His eyes flaring with bile, Velika turned on his heels and started to head out the foundry.
A black and gold titan prevented him from going any further.
"The volcanoes growl, the ground screams, and the waterfalls roar." A sneer crossed Karzahni's asymmetrical mask. "And yet, I can still tell when the foundries cease to make noise. It happens often, but it is usually with good reason."
The sneer twisted into a grin. "But there is never a good reason, and so the foundries carry on as always. So, my friend, I challenge you to come with a good enough reason before I decided what to do with you."
Velika looked up at the mad ruler of this execrable realm, meeting his glare with his own. "You are insane."
"I'd rather us the term 'creative,' but art is always so subjective."
The Po-Matoran kept his gaze on the tyrant. "How could the Great Beings have created such an abominable creature like you?"
Karzahni opened his mouth and the worst laugh Velika had ever heard came out of it. It rang throughout the foundry and could have shook the island had its owner willed it. The titan then leaned forward and glowered into the Po-Matoran's eyes.
"You think I'm bad? How about I show you something far worse."
The amalgamation that was Karzahni's mask glowed and flung Velika into another world. He was standing in a desert, not unlike the Wastelands of Spherus Magna. A black and silver monstrosity marched through the sand, leaving the corpses of Toa, Glatorian, and others in its wake. The blood of its victims coated its razor sharp talons.
As it slowly approached Velika, a voice spoke in his mind.
Marendar. The Harbinger of Salvation.
And then the illusion faded. Velika was back in Karzahni's realm, still standing before its ruler. The mad grin had vanished and was replaced by a look of mild bewilderment.
Finally, Karzahni found his voice. "Most intriguing."
And it was with that the black and gold titan walked away, and the Matoran resumed work again.
No comments:
Post a Comment