Land of War/Chapter 9

Round Again
Makuta Ikirro strode through the dark, abandoned halls of Cekedax’s fortress. He was making his way to a room in the cellar, one only he and Cekadax knew about.

I hope the telescreen still works after all that has been done to the fortress, he thought. Rularx hates receiving news late.

Makuta Rularx was a relatively high-ranking member of the Brotherhood, and he was renowned for being a mastermind, a manipulative thinker, and finally a being possessed of many, many character flaws. Some said that if he and Teridax had a contest to see who would be more manipulative, cruel, and downright bad, that it would end in a draw.

Ikirro hated Rularx. Most Makuta did. Cekadax, especially, because Rularx was unapologetically sexist. Rularx believed that only Makuta as a race had the capacity to be worthy of ruling the universe, and of Makuta, those that were the most cunning, most deceptive, and most inclined to look after themselves above all others were the cream of the crop. He thought that the surprisingly and, to him offensively, brutal Makuta females were a plague, a glitch in the race that kept them from having higher renown and better reputations among both the Matoran they led and the other species in the universe as well.

Moreover, Rularx hated Makuta like Ikirro, who prided themselves in their ability as warriors, for he believed that, though he never denied that being a capable warrior was a bad thing, the Makuta’s strength was not in combat but in genius. When asked which Makuta best exemplified genius, Rularx of course answered that it was he.

Ikirro grumbled to himself as he entered the secret communications room and activated the telescreen. A short loading sequence ended with the screen suddenly flashing to a view of the inside of Rularx’s communications room. It was empty.

“Rularx!” Ikirro shouted at the screen. Nothing happened. Ikirro called for his brother again, but again it caused nothing. Finally, a couple minutes later, Rularx walked in and started upon seeing Ikirro’s mask on his telescreen.

“Brother,” he said. “Were you waiting long?” Rularx asked with mock concern.

“Only long enough to start doubting your worthiness to the Brotherhood,” was Ikirro’s reply.

“Ah hold on,” Rularx held up a finger. He pushed a button, then sad, “My sincerest apologies, Ikirro. I had it on mute. Last time I used this screen, I was being forced to listen to one of Cekedax’s tirades.”

“Your sincerest apologies?” Ikirro asked. “We know how sincere those are, Rularx.”

Rularx smiled. “Not at all, of course.”

Ikirro growled. Perhaps Rularx’s worst quality was the fact that he had an honest view of himself. He knew every one of his flaws. He knew exactly how bad he was. He didn’t care. He loved himself too much to care. “We’re under attack,” Ikirro said.

An explosion rocked the fortress. The Yelnir airships were making progress. Rularx nodded. “Yes, I deduced that.”

“This day will not end in victory,” Ikirro continued. “Recapar and I will be arriving at your location shortly, along with the remainder of Cekadax’s mercenary force.”

“And what of Cekadax?” Rularx asked. “Don’t tell me she’s busy trying to make a point to the Toa by bashing in their heads again. They never listen.”

Ikirro paused for a moment, then said, “Cekadax will not be joining us. She has fallen in battle against a Hokanuka.”

“Oh, come on,” Rularx admonished. “Why!? Why does this have to be so difficult? They’re a mere failed experiment!” He sighed, then continued. “Well, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t pleased to hear of Cekadax’s demise, but I am disappointed that we lost such a useful ally.”

“As well you should be,” Ikirro snarled. “I will meet you soon.”

Rularx smiled. “And your enemies will pursue you, of course,” he said pointedly.

Ikirro returned the smile. “Yes. We shall test your mettle together, brother. We will see if you are worth all your pomp and self-given splendor.”

Rularx nodded. “And by the way, Astricus says he wants to take on Recapar, so you’d better make it on time to see the fight.”

“It won’t be half as interesting as the fight between us, brother,” Ikirro grinned.

“You really hate me, don’t you?” Rularx asked.

“Of course,” Ikirro said as he shut off his telescreen.

Lohrua stood watch at Altronia fortress, alongside one of the regular sentries. He peered into the morning fog, looking to see if he could glimpse his teammates returning.

“See anything?” he asked his nearby comrade for the fifth time.

“Nope,” the sentry said. “You know, you should really get some rest. You’re still not all better yet.”

“I’m well enough to be present for my team’s homecoming,” Lohrua returned. “I’m sticking with you.”

“Suit yourself,” the sentry shrugged.

The pair stood for an hour more, but even though the sun rose over the horizon, no troops did. The real fog cleared, but the fog of unrest covering the pair lingered. Finally Lohrua turned and began to leave.

“You’re right. I need rest,” he said, sounding dejected. “Call me if you see anything.”

The sentry didn’t turn from the view of the eastern horizon. “What?” he asked. “I thought you wanted to be here when your team returned.”

“So?” Lohrua asked.

“Well,” the sentry said, turning back to Lohrua finally. “They’re here.”

Indeed they were. Along with the remainder of the Order of Altronia, the Vindicators and the Universal Alliance came walking back to the fortress, striding through the mist into the light. They had faced the darkness, and the darkness had fallen before them.

“See you round,” Lohrua said to the sentry as he left. “Thanks.”

“Minions of Makuta Rularx, meet the new inductee into your ranks.”

Said minions turned at the voice of the automaton that spoke to them. The seven-and-a-half foot-tall robot brought a Skakdi into the room with it, gesturing for him to join the others in the room.

“Greetings, Skakdi,” said a Runask with a mechanical arm. “I welcome you on behalf of those of my teammates who ever welcome anyone. I am Vissus.”

“Zortak,” the Skakdi answered. “Nice to see that I’m not alone in this universe. Looks like there’s other competent, perfectly immoral beings willing to do what they need to get along in the world.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Vissus said, his face flat and cold as ever.

“How dare you!?” demanded a cobalt-armored being with a bladed tail and twin spiked weapons. “I am not a crooked mercenary like you! I am a loyal, ever-obedient servant of the Brotherhood of Makuta! I would never stoop to letting my wallet think for me, unlike you, you unrepentant slimeball!”

Zortak turned to Vissus. “The radical of the group?”

“More like the maniac,” said another Runask. This one has green and black armor, like Vissus, but he had fins sticking out of his mask and reptilian spikes on his back, along with a long, black, cable-like tail. “He’s obsessed and proud of it.”

“I simply give the great Makuta the praise they deserve, Tamrix. I wish I could say the same for you! You would change sides in a moment if your enemies offered you a better price!”

“Astricus, calm down, please,” said another voice. The voice almost dripped with pride. All eyes turned to see an orange-black Varen standing there, leaning casually against the wall. He looked on all the others in the room with contempt, as if they were barely worth his presence, but he was still trying to make them think he didn’t hate them as much as he really did.

“I agree. Take a chill, Wrenix,” said another voice, addressing Astricus by his species name. The owner of this voice wore blue and white armor with a sleek, streamlined appearance.

Vissus turned to the robot. “That will be all, Dastrox,” he said. The robot turned at once and left Zortak with the other Revolutionaries.

“Things always like this on this team?” Zortak asked.

“Pretty much,” Tamrix replied.

Zortak smiled. “Good. Would hate to have boring teammates.”

Vissus turned to Zortak. “Then this team should suit you well.”

As is his way, Faxhuun wasn’t wasting time. True, that was a tough battle for the Order as a whole, but a much easier than the last one. There were quite a few reasons for this, but one major one was that the Makuta had been otherwise engaged while the two armies fought. Ikirro had been busy handing the Vindicators and the Universal Alliances their own backsides, and Cekadax had been ended by Trallix.

That was quite a battle. Faxhuun himself hadn’t seen much of it, since he had had to deal with Recapar, but he had seen the beginning, which was intense. The majority of the battle eluded his sight, since the two combatants had left the area after a little while. Faxhuun did, however, manage to catch the aftermath. Much to his amazement and relief, the second-in-command of the Hokanuka Order stood victorious, with Cekedax’s broken and soon-to-be-buried armor the only thing left of Faxhuun’s greatest enemy.

That was when things got interesting. Makuta Ikirro, surprisingly, after being beaten back just enough for his enemies to escape his sight, disappeared for a time, then returned and ordered a retreat. The remnant of Cekedax’s mercenary force, which was not a very large percentage of the original force, pulled out and headed almost directly south. Faxhuun knew that could only mean one thing.

“They’re heading for that unnamed island down south,” he said to Recvak and Liakatus. The three of them were in Faxhuun’s chambers, discussing how best to press their advantage. They had already decided to pursue the Makuta’s forces once again, and their army was so happy to have won two battles in such quick succession that they had no hesitation toward following their leaders into another one.

“What do we know about it?” Recvak asked no one in particular.

Liakatus shook his head. “Not much, since it has not been very important until now. There was a Makuta outpost there at one point, purpose unknown, but that has since been eliminated.”

“Why would Ikirro be pulling back there?” Recvak asked. “Maybe the previous tenant of the island left something there?”

“Makes sense,” Faxhuun agreed. “His name was Burtok, by the way. We had him as a slave for a while, until he got lose and went to aid Cekadax. We don’t know what happened after that, however.”

Liakatus spoke up, “Yes we do, sir. My friend Bultrox told me that he found his old enemy’s mask hanging on a wall in Cekedax’s trophy room. Cekadax must have done Burtok in but good.”

“So we only have one Makuta to deal with, then,” Recvak said, smiling. “We’re narrowing it down. Unless, of course, Ikirro’s reason for pulling back to that island is because…”

The other two in the room suddenly became grimmer. If Ikirro had yet another ally, this one could end up being worse than Burtok or Cekadax, and who knew how different. Maybe Ikirro had another reason for pulling back. Perhaps Burtok had left behind something Ikirro wanted.

Suddenly a knock at the door broke up the conversation. Faxhuun admitted entrance, and in walked Sybeko, with Jardel beside him.

“Jardel, our most effective inside intel person, has something to share,” Sybeko announced.

Jardel nodded. “Cekadax’s communications array was used right before Ikirro retreated with the army. See, the Makuta communicate with telescreens sometimes, at least when they’re out of telepathy range. She often used hers to keep in touch with Rularx.”

“Who is that?” Liakatus asked.

“Not someone most sane beings would wish to meet,” Sybeko answered.

“Overall not an honorable being,” Jardel agreed. “Cekadax spoke of him the way she spoke of the plague or a rotting corpse. It seems that, although neither was very pleased with the fact, they needed to keep in touch, because they were working together on some assignment.”

“Makuta take assignments?” Liakatus asked, doubtful.

“They do from higher-ranking Makuta, believe me,” Jardel assured him. “One of Rularx’s higher-ups must have given him a task, one with which he needed Cekadax’s help.”

“Interesting,” Recvak mused. “A miniature league of Makuta within the Brotherhood itself. Are there any other Makuta we could add to our list of known league members?”

“Burtok would be a likely candidate,” Faxhuun pointed out. “He was rather eager to join forces with Cekadax, even though they never got along.”

“Ikirro,” Liakatus added. After a pause, he smiled. “I got the obvious one.” After another pause, he seemed to recall something. “Ah! Right! My friend Bultrox mentioned another Makuta, Burtok’s apprentice Rayzok.”

“There appears to be a league of five Makuta,” Jardel agreed, then added, “with only two left, ironically.”

Faxhuun nodded. “The problem, however, is that those two are perhaps the most formidable of the original league. Ikirro is a deadly warrior, one who has proven himself capable of singlehandedly holding off nineteen opponents. Rularx is the big mystery. We need intel on him and his specialties.”

Jardel shrugged. “Apologies, boss. I have none.”

Faxhuun smiled. “At ease, comrade. I know some people who do.”

“So, how was it?” Lohrua asked eagerly.

Suntrah let out a big sigh, but said nothing. Levuku was the one who finally spoke. “It was amazing and terrible at the same time. The Hokanuka showed up in time to crash the party, and from what I gathered, they’ll be joining us again.”

“Is that the amazing part?” Lohrua asked.

“That’s the intro,” Levuku replied. “I’m getting to the amazing part. The terrible part comes first, though. We followed Faxhuun and a few of his braves into the fortress, which was pretty cool-looking, by the way, and were joined by Trallix. Anyway, Faxhuun and his merry men took Recapar, Trallix took Cekadax, and we took Ikirro, who was there, too.”

“Is that the terrible part?” Lohrua prodded.

“Part of it,” Levuku said. “The rest is that, even though he took us outside, al nineteen of us, and took us on alone, he still was painting the floor with us!”

“It was really embarrassing,” Vohk said. “I thought we were a lot more pro than that.”

Levuku nodded. “It was humiliating. And terrifying. He was so powerful, so skilled, and so, so bent on killing us. He would hit hard, hit fast, and hit right where it hurt. He knew how to best use his dozens of powers in battle, and didn’t seem to mind showing off who knows how many centuries of fighting experience.”

“What’s the amazing part?” Lohrua asked.

This time, it was Rewta who spoke up. “That’s the fact that we survived. Thanks to Yurdil – thank you oh so very much to Yurdil – his telepathy was blocked some, and couldn’t just read our minds openly. We blew him through a wall, then got the Karzahni out of there. At that point nobody cared that we let a Makuta go. We just wanted to get out alive.”

“I don’t get it, though,” Lohrua replied. “If you got the upper hand, why leave?”

“It’s not like that,” Lihee said, then winced and grabbed his aching arm. “That Makuta’s attacks did damage, even though we got back up from them. We drove him back, we held him back from just walking all over us, but it was at a price. To keep from being tossed every which way, we had to stand there and take the pain. It was bad.” Lihee winced again and cradled his shield-carrying arm.

Lohrua sat back in his chair and pondered for a moment. Then he looked at his team. They all seemed to be nursing some sort of injury, all except Bultrox and Zallirix, but only because those two had exceptional resilience. Levuku appeared to have a twisted wrist, Suntrah a bruised midsection. Panuko looked like his head had been hammered thoroughly, and Bultrox was still miffed at having been turned into a shapeless pile of dust. All the heroes had taken significant damage, both to their bodies and to their morale. None of them wanted to do anything like that again.

As they sat in silence, twin shadows descended upon the room. One of the shadows was the darkness of the impending nightfall, but the other was the shadow of doubt, a much more oppressive darkness than any night’s blackness could ever be. As nightfall descended, so did the doubtfall. None would sleep well that night, for the shadows of night can be ignored while in the realm of dreams, but the shadows of doubt followed them to bed.

Bultrox awoke the next morning at an early hour. Seeing that his teammates were still asleep, he excused himself from their dormitory and made for the mess hall. Perhaps he would find something to do or someone to talk to there.

To his relief and surprise, Liakatus was already there. With a short wave, Bultrox headed over, across the relatively empty mess, to the table where Faxhuun’s ice-controlling lieutenant sat.

“I was just talking to Recvak and Faxhuun about you,” the Ice Toa said. “Telling them some intel you happened to share with me on Makuta Rayzok and his connection to Burtok.”

“What was the discussion about?” Bultrox asked.

Liakatus leaned forward. “I can’t really tell you that, but I can tell you the resulting decision of the conversation.”

“Spit it out, sir,” Bultrox said with a grin.

Liakatus smiled in return. “You never would have gotten away with that if you hadn’t said ‘sir.’ The plan is to wait as long as Faxhuun feels is necessary, then head south to that wild island you and your buddies came from.”

“Crystal Island?” Bultrox offered.

“If that’s its name, then yes,” Liakatus agreed. “We’re heading there to make war, and we’ll bring the Hokanuka with us as well. With their aid, we shouldn’t need the entirety of our army, so you and your friends don’t have to come if you don’t want to. Unless ordered to, of course. Then you have to.”

“Are you ordering us to?” Bultrox asked.

“No,” was the Ice Toa’s reply. “Someone might, but I’m not. You guys took some major hits from that Makuta, and you’ve all done more than what was required of you. I mean, no one asked for you to face Makuta Ikirro one-on-nineteen.”

“Too many on him at once?” Bultrox asked.

Liakatus laughed. “Not that kind of ‘more,’ boy. I mean ‘more’ as in ‘harder stuff.’ Really? Fighting Ikirro? With nineteen regulars? Unheard of! You young ‘uns did better than anyone expected. Even Faxhuun thought you guys’d never come back. He did plan on backing you up when he was done with Recapar, you know. He never got the chance, though, obviously.”

Bultrox sighed. “So me and the others don’t need to fight in this battle as it stand now?”

Liakatus shook his head. “The army we’ll be facing will likely be less nasty than the last one, so we need fewer regulars. No one’s stopping you, though. You’re more than welcome to come along.”

Bultrox smiled. “Oh, believe me, I’ll be there. I don’t know about my teammates, though…”

Liakatus rose to leave. “Well, give ‘em my regards, will ya, boy? Tell ‘em Faxhuun says good job with Ikirro.”

“I will,” Bultrox assured Liakatus. As the Ice Toa left, Bultrox pondered what he had heard. No need to go fight, he thought. It sounded too good to be true. What would his teammate think? Would they join him? Would they stay? If they came, would they be able to ever return? So many questions, so little time.

Rularx paced through dark halls unseen by many eyes, but that would be very familiar to the Vindicators. The aloof Makuta had taken up residence in these halls after its former resident had vanished into the dimensional void, never to return to his own fortress. Rularx’s stated alibi for moving in was that it was a far more strategic location from which to carry out his assignments, and that is would be a better, more secluded place in which to think.

The real story was that Rularx always wondered what Bultrox kept in his private fortress.

Rularx had been rooting around since he moved in, and was quite intrigued by what he found. As he bent over to pick up a piece of technology on the laboratory floor, his green-and-red, bat-like wings lazily draping over his back, his realized what it belonged to. It was a prototype of Burtok’s Time Dilation Accelerator.

“How convenient,” Rularx mused aloud. “Just the kind of thing I love: a nice, diabolical machine that plays with fundamental forces of nature.”

Rularx had many flaws. He was despised universally by his fellow Makuta, just because he was that hard of a person to be around. However, one of his flaws was not a romanticized, self-deceiving view of himself. He was quite aware of his faults and fundamentally evil nature, but he accepted them and even befriended them.

The Makuta spread his wings and lifted off the ground. “Looks like Burtok had Karzahni of a time with whoever tried to best him. I suppose I should assume that my brother went down fighting hard and died well,” Rularx said to himself. He paused. “Oh, who am I kidding? He was probably a disgrace to the very name Makuta, not to mention his own. He always was.”

Rularx hated Burtok for several reasons, but first and foremost was the fact that Rularx saw him as one who never quite measured up to his peers. Rularx thought of Burtok as one who was very like Rularx himself, but for one key difference. Rularx was competent.

The egotistical demi-god swooped down low and flew out the door of the lab, and began to glide through the long-abandoned halls of the fortress, heading toward his new lab, the one where, surely, far greater things would come about than ever did in Burtok’s lab.

As the new master of the Crystal Island Brotherhood Fortress alighted, he glanced once again to the piece of technology in his hand. It was merely a prototype for the Time Dilation Accelerator, and not complete, let alone functional. However, this precursor device could still serve Rularx’s purposes. He saw that a few key components of what the finished device had to have been were present, and there were enough were left for Rularx to reverse-engineer the Accelerator.

“I can replicate Burtok’s design,” the Makuta said to himself, as he was prone to doing when there was no one else to listen to him. “Or I can top it,” he finished with a smile.

Rularx walked to a nearby window. “The isle of Destral has a rather spiffy warping function, thanks to the Olmak that Tridax has installed there. As long as this is to be my base, I might as well try to reach similar heights of maneuverability.”

Rularx continued to gaze, plans already swirling in the vile cauldron of his mind. His plans were not only for what to make of his new invention, but also in case of needing to act militarily, and even plans for how to present himself to his brother Ikirro when he arrived. Many plans, all being formed and fitted together simultaneously, was the way Rularx liked to think. He was a thinker. He wasn’t a celebrated warrior like Ikirro. He wasn’t an inspiring leader by nature like Cekadax. He wasn’t a genius of science like Burtok – not Burtok, Mutran – but he was a thinker. He took time to think, and prided himself in how much he did. More thoughts went through his head than he let on, and that was also intentional. The most privacy he could get, the better.

Upon seeing something of interest making its way to the fortress, Rularx turned from the window and set about preparations. He checked the stasis tanks that his little pets were contained in, making sure that they were in good condition. He flicked a switch, activating many dim torches on the walls of the fortress, whose inner walls now gleamed of polished metal and glowed of highly advanced circuitry, new additions and touch-ups that Rularx added. A clean finish, extra appliances, and the occasional death trap always made the Makuta feel more at home. He strode out of the lab and into the halls. The torches on the walls colored the metallic walls a dark orange. His normally black, green, and purple armor now seared with imposing shades of crimson and hazel. His limp, yet strong leathen wings trailed behind him, his claws clinked on the metal beneath his feet, and his footsteps echoed on the walls eerily as he made his way down the corridors to the main entrance.

Upon making it to said entrance, Rularx pressed a control on the wall, and the metallic gate opened with a swish. On the other side was Ikirro, flanked by Recapar and followed by many rather beaten-up mercenary soldiers.

“Welcome, my dear brother,” Rularx greeted Ikirro, with not the slightest trace of sincerity. “It graces me to lay eyes upon your mask once more.”

Ikirro ignored this blatantly false display, and instead asked a completely unrelated question. “Rularx, are you raving mad?”

“I may be. I never took the time to find out,” was his brother’s reply.

Ikirro gestured to the sky. “Well, time to find out, brother.”

Rularx followed Ikirro’s gesture, and found himself looking at one of the many flags that he had put up on the outside of his fortress. “Like those?” Rularx asked dryly.

Ikirro ignored Rularx’s drollness again. “That is the symbol of the Brotherhood of Makuta, correct, Rularx?”

“Why, yes,” Rularx agreed, pleasant tone unchanged.

“And we are both familiar with its appearance, aren’t we, Rularx. We both have intimate knowledge of its appearance,” Ikirro continued.

“I would imagine so, unless you have been faking it all these years,” Rularx teased. He liked teasing Ikirro for the simple reason that he was amused by the fact that Ikirro never responded.

“Then why have you made such a fundamental error in your flag design, Rularx?” Ikirro asked pointedly. “How have you somehow managed to, at the top of the symbol, place your own mask in the place of Teridax’s?”

Rularx waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, that,” he said with his always pleasant tone. “Think nothing of it. I just thought that my mask would look much nicer there than Teridax’s is all.” There was an awkward pause. Ikirro stood very still and very silent for a long time, his troops mirroring his statue-like inactivity.

Finally Rularx gestured toward the interior of his fortress and said with a cordial smile, “Please do come in, all of you.”

Of course, once Ikirro and the troops came in, and after Rularx showed them to the “sty,” has he called it, Rularx gave Ikirro and Recapar the obligatory tour of the fortress. Ikirro only came along for the strategic benefit of knowing his base inside and out, and Recapar because Rularx was his commanding officer, and gave him no choice.

His former curtain of cordiality only now a tattered veil, Rularx showed Ikirro around, all the while speaking of his design changes and aesthetic improvements to the structure as the greatest thing that could have happened to them. Ikirro said almost nothing, but silently admitted to himself that Rularx made a much better fortress than Burtok did. Ikirro also noted that all Rularx really had to do was renovate the fortress, while Burtok constructed it from scratch.

“And here is the former Lightning Crystal processing room,” Rularx said with a greatly expressive gesture. “Here legions of Scorpio-Spiders would work their short, pitiful lives away trying to pursue a cause that, in the end, was nobly committed to the core causes of the Brotherhood and, somehow, still completely idiotic and fruitless. But, of course, this room now serves as the housing center for my troops. Less intelligent, yes, but far more effective than Burtok’s warriors, I assure you.”

Ikirro glanced at Rularx. “And why, when brains are the best stuff to make good warriors out of, is that true?”

Rularx smiled dryly. “Because they’re made from my essence, of course.” He paused. “Oh, just kidding. That’s not the only reason. They’re also far easier to make than Burtok’s troops. They are each completely expendable, and can be made in such mass quantities that even suicidal attacks will be beneficial to my side.”

Ikirro finally looked over the edge at Rularx’s infantry. What he saw was impressive, hideous, and somehow satisfying. Rularx’s minions turned out to be green-black, spiked, bipedal beasts with large teeth, clawed hands and feet, and cybernetic right arms. Said arms had a large blade on them, with an energy-based projectile weapon mounted on that, all of which was connected by a tube running from their arm to their back. A select few of these monstrosities also had wings on their back and heavier armor, and these obviously functioned as the unit commanders. All in all, these creatures were deadly, efficient in design, and, at least according to Rularx, quite inexpensive.

Rularx couldn’t read Ikirro’s mind at that moment, but he didn’t need to. Ikirro might not be considered quite impressed, but he was certainly satisfied. Thus, Rularx decided to draw it out a bit. “Do you like my military supplement?”

Ikirro said nothing for a moment, then nodded. “I am sure they will perform adequately, especially when backed up by my mercenaries, Recapar, myself, and you.”

Rularx grinned. “Oh, well, I wasn’t going to ruin the surprise, but there’s more to see on this tour.”

Ikirro turned to Rularx. “I can’t imagine how. We’ve seen so much. Surely there can’t be more mediocre exhibits to show off.”

Rularx’s grin stayed, but his eyes glazed over. “Oh, there aren’t. There were only those two way back at the beginning. This is an exciting exhibit.”

Recapar had earlier been reluctant to speak against his superior, but with Ikirro’s sarcastic comment, the Shadow Toa found his voice. “And, pray tell, how are they exciting?”

Rularx glanced at Recapar. “Because after I show them off, I will unleash them on you, lab rat. Slaughters – I mean, fights – are always exciting.” The Makuta’s grin never faded. He was enjoying himself too much. Recapar said no more.

Ikirro took up the slack Recapar left. “That reminds me. You owe me a fight.”

“Please,” Rularx pleaded sarcastically. “Can we leave the in-house combat for later? Let’s just get right to the best part of my exhibition.”

After a few brief travels down some more dark halls, and even a stroll through the main plaza, the trio came to a rather ordinary door. Rularx obligatorily gestured at it dramatically, and said, “This is the dormitory, fellows. This is where the magic happens.” As he turned the knob, he added, “The deadly magic that is hand-picked, murderous mercenaries.”

Rularx swung the door open. Inside, there was a strange collection of beings, all milling about and conversing with each other, in most cases neither with disdain or affection, but simply tolerance. They looked like they would not care too much whether any of their companions died right then or not. Standing among them was a tall, lanky, robot in gray armor, apparently in some sort of sleep mode.

“All at attention, boys,” Rularx called. “Time to recognize your new alternate commanders.”

At his words, all the mercenaries stood up and faced Ikirro and Recapar. The robot seemed to boot back up on some undetectable signal and walked over to Rularx’s side.

Rularx began to introduce his minions, beginning with the robot. “This reserved fellow is called Dastrox. His name is in fact an acronym, standing for “Defensive, Aggressive, and Sociable Techno-Robotic Operative, Mark Ten.”

Ikirro snorted. “Only you would make up an acronym with a nonreal word in it.”

Rularx folded his arms. “’Techno-Robotic’ is only there to sound cool, Ikirro, no need to get all huffy. Can’t an inventor name his invention something cool?” After a pause, Rularx continued. “The robot has five behavior modes, denoted by numbers one through five, and each increasing in aggressiveness with increase in numerical value. At level five, which I call ‘Death Mode,’ the robot moves with speed and coordination beyond all natural limits of biomechanical organisms.” Gesturing to the robot’s weapons, he said, “It comes equipped with electricity-discharging claws and a rocket launcher, as well as auxiliary equipment, like vacuum pads on its feet to walk on surfaces, and a visor with the latest in heads-up displays.”

Rularx then turned to the first in line of his minions, who he did not describe with as great of detail as he did the robot. The minion was adorned in green and black armor, with a spiked helmet and armor, a laser-equipped scythe in one hand and cybernetic claws in place of the other hand, which appeared to be missing. “This one is Vissus. He is the leader of this elite team of mine, which I call the Revolutionaries.”

“Why is it called that?” Recapar asked, remembering the suspicious flags outside the fortress.

Rularx was about to answer, but the second in the line of mercenaries broke in with, “Because we aid the Brotherhood of Makuta in their righteous Revolution of the Universe! And we do it with zeal and fervor!”

Rularx smiled at his minion. “Thank you, Astricus. I couldn’t have put it better myself. However, next time, it would behoove you to speak in turn.” Rularx then continued speaking of Vissus. “At any rate, Vissus there is the one whom I considered most competent as not only a fighter and follower of orders, but as a leader of other Brotherhood servants.”

He finally turned to Astricus. Astricus had blue armor, with spiked swords in his hands and a short tail, ending in a third blade, attached to his back. “Now, Astricus the Zealous is deputy of the Revolutionaries. He is fierce, he is passionate, and his loyalty to Brotherhood ideals is second to none, save perhaps Recapar here.”

Rularx turned to the third. “This is Tehdak. He’s a slippery one. He glides around effortlessly and kills similarly.” Tehdak’s sleek blue-white armor, glider skates mounted on is feet, and powerful rifle made it obvious that Rularx wasn’t exaggerating.

Rularx introduced yet another minion, this one clad in black and green armor, like Vissus, but his armor was a lighter green and a blacker black. He had several reptilian characteristics, including a mask that looked like a lizard’s face, spikes on his back, and a long, cable-like ebony tail. He carried twin swords as well, but something about him said that those were not his most powerful weapons bay far. “Meet Tamrix. He’s the local Rahi tamer. He and Astricus have…personal disagreements…but they work together well enough for me.”

This time the Revolutionary who was next needed no introduction. Ikirro recognized him immediately. “I know this one, Rularx, and while I am disappointed that he apparently deserted during the battle, I am at least please to know that he did not abandon the Makuta as a whole.”

Rularx nodded toward Zortak, who was in fact the one they spoke of. “He’s a new one, but I know enough of his reputation to be based in reality.”

Rularx turned to yet another minion. This one looked like he was exasperated at Rularx for taking this long to get to him, but was masking it well enough that Rularx gave him the benefit of the doubt. The being had one orange and black armor and carried a sword with a built-in Rhotuka spinner launcher. His very appearance screamed of explosives, with his flame-colored armor and helmet. “This man here is a rather strong-willed one, but his will works in my favor more often than not. He thinks quickly and acts quickly, and really doesn’t care who dies in the meantime. I like that. Oh, and his name is Strygel. I forgot for a moment,” Rularx said, the last part meant as a tease aimed at Strygel.

The next Revolutionary looked reserved yet steely, non-obsessive but still hardy and obedient. He stood with attention much better than many of his comrades. His armor was yellow, red, gray, and black, and also looked like it had been through a lot. Still, its wearer looked none the worse for wear. He still looked pretty bad, though. His Chilas-like face was not a pleasant spectacle to behold.

“He’s Garius. He’s a good fighter, and ready to do his part, but even when he falls, he always get back up. I’ve even seem him get detonated and pull himself back together. Literally. It’s pretty cool to watch.”

The next servant of Rularx’s looked like he hadn’t seen much action, but was still fiery in his resolve. He had bright red armor and wielded a high-tech weapon that looked like a glorified flamethrower. “This here’s Gordok,” Rularx announced. “He’s new, but he’s not without his unique strengths and tricks. He learns a lot through observation, and can figure out how to best you with uncanny precision.”

The very last Revolutionary looked like the kind of person who would fall in last on the pecking order. That is, he looked like a complete moron. Even with his black and gold, rather tough–looking musculature, even with his robotic claw arm crossed with rocket launcher, and his menacing flail, his stance and dumb, brutish expression told the whole story. “This bristly one is Bruxnor,” Rularx finished. “He’s not the brightest one here, but he’s tough as protosteel rivets. And he has a bazooka. That’s a nice touch.”

Ikirro stood back and looked at Rularx’s team. He had yet to see them in action, but he still could conclude that they were a formidable addition to the Makuta’s forces. One thing good about Rularx was that he was completely honest in his opinions of himself and others. He would not have made these unique persons his elites without good reason.

Ikirro finally addressed the Revolutionaries. “I am Makuta Ikirro. You are servants of the Brotherhood. You are to do as I say if in fact I do have cause to order you to do anything. My aide is Recapar. You are to respect not only his dignity but also his power and ferocity. We are your allies. I and Rularx are your commanders. You are to give your all in our service, and we will decide when and how you are to do so.” Ikirro paused to acquire obligatory assent form the Revolutionaries before continuing. “Not long from now, our shared and sworn enemies will be on this very island. They will come with a vengeance and strength born of infantile idealism. We will fight them. We will kill them. And we will claim this day as our rightful victory. Do you understand?”

The Revolutionaries nodded.

Ikirro nodded in return. He then turned to Rularx. “Have anything to add, ‘brother?’”

Rularx shrugged. “When you’re out there doing what you do best, don’t do it to each other. That’s about all I have to say.”

Ikirro rolled his eyes. Recapar decided to finish up the indoctrination. “For the Brotherhood!” he shouted.

The Revolutionaries, and especially Astricus, echoed, “For the Brotherhood!”

Rularx turned immediately and left the dormitory, along with Dastrox, heading for his lab. All this passion and commitment was too much for him. He had to get back to his work. After all, the landmass transportation device wasn’t going to invent itself.

As soon as Rularx was gone, Ikirro had the Revolutionaries engage in mock battle to try to determine their worth. He paired them up to see what would happen, and happened to pair Astricus with Tamrix.

Astricus was only too happy to oblige.

The Wrenix warrior had had a long-running rivalry with Tamrix, mainly because, while Astricus was a pro-Brotherhood fanatic, Tamrix was only serving them for the pay. Tamrix mocked Astricus for his “blind faith,” and Astricus berated Tamrix for his “unscrupulous bounty-hunting.” Bickering swelled into arguments, and arguments exploded into mortal combat on more than one occasion. It was clear that the two of them would maintain this rivalry to their respective graves, unless one of them resolved it and sent the other to his ahead of schedule. Ikirro was unaware what a bomb he was about to set off, but he would discover in time.

The other pair-ups were less exciting. Strygel was to battle Zortak, Tehdak battle Bruxnor, Gordok battle Garius, and finally Vissus got the privilege of dueling with Recapar, since the Revolutionaries numbered nine, which left an odd man out. The battles proceeded as follows.

Strygel got the first hit on Zortak, landing an Explosion Spinner at the Skakdi’s feet. Zortak gave himself some cover fire with his Ricochet Vision, but Strygel dodged one bolt and sent the other bouncing off his sword and around the room. Zortak tried several times to land a blow with his sword, but Strygel blocked each blow. Finally Zortak made a critical error and allowed Strygel to get ahold of his blade and wrest it free of its owner’s grip. The Skakdi shrugged and fired off his gun a few times, to which Strygel responded with a spinner. Leaping through the smoke left in the wake of the explosion, Strygel lunged at Zortak, but that turned out to be his critical error. Zortak allowed Strygel to enter a grapple with him, then used his superior strength to force Strygel to his knees. With the Skakdi’s claws digging into his wrists, Strygel tried vainly to twist free. Zortak ended the fight quickly with a burst of Ricochet which bounced off the floor and into Strygel’s chin.

Tehdak landed blow after blow on Bruxnor, but the lowest-ranked Revolutionary merely shrugged off the attacks, his armor showing little evidence of them. Tehdak’s glider skates kept his speed up, and he circled Bruxnor, not letting his sparring partner get close. Bruxnor fired off a rocket from his arm-mounted launcher, but Tehdak dodged it with ease. Bruxnor lunged at Tehdak, only to have the swifter fighter slip behind him and land a slice with his blade. This blow actually did some damage, but Bruxnor merely grunted in response. Then, with a “Take this!” he whirled and fired a rocket at Tehdak, who was finally within effective range for Bruxnor. The missile didn’t connect directly, but even though Tehdak put his blades up to block it (the only thing he could do at that point) it still knocked him eleven feet backward. Bruxnor advanced on Tehdak, ready to land a finishing blow and force Tehdak to concede. The high-ranked Revolutionary looked up to see Bruxnor’s missile launcher pointed at his face.

“Don’t move, Tehdak. This’ll only hurt for a sec,” Bruxnor said, raising his flail.

“Don’t move?” Tehdak repeated. He smiled. “Fine by me.”

Bruxnor was not ranked so low because of his lack of fighting ability. He was a low-ranked member because he was an idiot. That was why he forgot Tehdak had a Mask of Laser Vision. Tehdak’s mask activated and twin laser beams sliced holes in Bruxnor’s cannon, ruining the firing mechanism. With no fear of retribution, Tehdak simply landed a glider-skate-boosted kick to Bruxnor’s midsection. That was essentially the end of that.

Gordok and Garius were to fight, and that was perhaps Ikirro’s least decisive pairing, for the two were very close in rank, and that was because they had about equal fighting prowess. The problem was that Gordok’s prowess didn’t kick in until after he had done some preparation.

Gordok possessed the ability to analyze a fighting strategy or style, and automatically counter it. The problem with that power was that it forced Gordok to have to fight for a while before he had a clue how to deal with his enemy. Garius, unlike Bruxnor, was no fool, and knew this, and he planned to use it to his advantage. He hammered Gordok with his sword right from the start. Gordok’s special flamethrower shot flames out about five feet, then solidified the flames into a blade, just as Gordok had designed them to. Gordok tried to fight back, and it was easier with the addition of his new blade to help his natural claws out in fighting Garius, but it was too much for him at first. Then Gordok, independent of his power, saw a hole on Garius’s guard, and took the opportunity. The flame-composed blade shot out and sliced off Garius’s sword arm.

“Aw, come on,” Garius scowled. This was not painful to him. It was only painful the first time it had happened, all those millennia ago. Now, all Garius had to do was activate his own power to fix it. Magnetically his arm was drawn to the empty socket it had just exited, and snapped back into place. It was none too soon, for Gordok was beginning to learn Garius’s strategy by this time, and was deciding to use the exact parts. It was easy to do that to Garius, but the trick was getting removed limbs to stay removed. They never seemed to. After a few more blows, finally Gordok smashed aside Garius’s sword and beheaded him. Garius’s head simply growled in response.

Garius’s body reacted differently, however, and aimed its aster square are Gordok before pulling the trigger. Gordok, too intent on watching Garius’s head slide across the floor, never even prepared, and was knocked to the floor. Garius scooped up his own head and returned it to its normal place. Planting his foot on Gordok’s chest, he pinned him to the ground. Gordok simply let his head fall back, signaling his surrender.

Astricus and Tamrix started the fight verbally, each taunting the other to attack first. “Come along, Tamrix,” Astricus sneered. “Prove me wrong prove you’re not just a sorry mercenary who never fights on the front lines.”

Tamrix replied. “I’m not going to try to disprove that. I don’t fight on the front lines. That’s not because I’m cowardly, however. It’s because I’m not stupid.”

With a growl, Astricus said, “Fine, then. If you want me to begin this, I will!” With a battle cry, he lunged at Tamrix. Tamrix sidestepped, but Astricus expected that and whirled his blade out to the side, forcing Tamrix to awkwardly end his dodge with a block. With a scream of rage, Astricus landed a blow with his other spiked sword, slamming it onto Tamrix’s crossed swords as if he wanted to hammer them flat. Tamrix grunted and took an involuntary step backwards, but then leaped back and disengaged his defense in one move. Astricus was on him, and Tamrix was ready to counter.

Just a split-second before Astricus reached him, however, Astricus faded to a ghostly state and simply phased through Tamrix. Thinking quickly, Tamrix tossed one of his swords to his tail, caught it with said appendage, and blocked Astricus’s next swing. Tamrix then turned and blocked Astricus’s next one with an arm. As Astricus pulled back for another blow, Tamrix quickly passed his sword from tail to free hand and blocked the blow as it came. A few more blows passed. Tamrix swung both of his blades in one direction to try to throw Astricus. Astricus spun, attacking with his swords and tail blade all in one move. Tamrix leaped, adhered to the ceiling with his reptilian abilities, and tossed a blade as Astricus. The blue Wrenix turned insubstantial once more, allowing the blade to pass through him even as he floated up to Tamrix. The green warrior ducked through Astricus, retrieving his blade, before leaping back to the ceiling. Astricus solidified for a moment, just long enough to swing, then went back to floating. The next time it happened, Tamrix ducked and grabbed Astricus’s arm, yanking it toward him. Startled, Astricus didn’t phase out of substance fast enough to prevent his slamming into Tamrix’s leg. The two fell, with Tamrix flipping Astricus in hopes of landing on him. Astricus smiled and phased into the floor, letting Tamrix fall flat on his face.

Knowing Astricus had to be floating up through him at that very moment, Tamrix flipped over and caught his enemy right as he attacked, locking their blades together. Astricus’s bladed tail swung to attack, but was apprehended by Tamrix’s own midway to its target. The two fighters were deadlocked as the fight was concerned, but both knew that Astricus had the option of turning intangible to escape, while Tamrix did not. Even so, it looked like Astricus was still going to find some way to kill Tamrix right then and there. Luckily for Astricus’s enemy, Ikirro shouted for them to break up the spar.

Reluctantly, Astricus phased out of Tamrix’s grip and stood up straight. Tamrix got to his own feet as well. No words were said, because none needed to be. The two Revolutionaries faced front along with the others.

The other fighters had missed the chance at spectating as Recapar fought their leader, but it was obvious what the outcome had been, for even though Recapar and Vissus were quite banged up, Vissus was clutching his real arm in pain, while Recapar stood proudly with his master.

Ikirro walked toward the center of the dormitory, then said, “I see you all are at least somewhat worthy of the praise Rularx has given you. Congratulations. I hope that this performance is a taste of what we will see in the next battle against the Toa. Keep well, Revolutionaries, and train hard. I am counting on you to be an elite squad. Prove yourselves worthy of its title.” With that, the Makuta and his Shadow Toa accomplice left the dormitory.

“Good work, all of you,” Vissus said, in his usual cold way. “The acceptance of Makuta Ikirro is hard to earn. Since was have attained it, we have been given his trust, and responsibility to prove ourselves. Do not fail the Makuta. Do not fail me, either.”

Astricus walked over to his leader, the only one on the team who could defeat him regularly. “Vissus, I request permission to test the mettle of our new recruit,” he said, pointing to Zortak. “I wish to confirm for myself Ikirro’s belief, not because I distrust him, but merely to experience his observation firsthand.”

Vissus winced and clutched his arm again. Then he said, “You will get your chance, deputy. For now, however, we would be best served to rest ourselves. No more conflict until the next sunrise.”

“Oh, good. Then I can reveal myself without getting swarmed,” said a female voice from behind them.

All the Revolutionaries whirled to see a female Varen, clad in blue-white armor and carrying needle-like tridents, rising to her feet from behind a cot. Only Zortak recognized her, and he made that fact clear.

“Myriax?” he asked. “Why are you in here? Did you desert, too?”

Myriax smiled. “I came with Ikirro, Skakdi. I thought of deserting, but then I got on a kill streak and forgot the idea.”

Vissus locked his eyes on Zortak. “You seem to know this intruder.”

Zortak shrugged. “Sorta. We were fellow troopers working for Cekadax. We were put on the same regiment, and for some reason she made a point of knowing everyone on the regiment well. Don’t ask me why. I sure didn’t ask her.”

Myriax laughed in a disturbingly enthusiastic way. “Oh, you dolt. You seriously don’t have a clue?”

Zortak nodded. “Yes, I do, but I hoped my clue was wrong.”

Myriax walked over to the group. “I was getting to know you so I would get an idea of how you fought. You can tell a lot about people’s fighting style by how they act.”

Zortak shook his head. “Karzahni. I hate it when I’m right.”

Astricus turned to Vissus. “I request permission to test the mettle of this intruder for purpose of evaluating her for possible recruitment.”

Vissus smiled with icy amusement and said, “Permission granted.”

Rularx stood back and gazed upon his masterpiece. It was a true thing of beauty. Its grandeur could not be described by any words Rularx could conjure, so Rularx just stood back and stared at his own work with wonder in his scarlet eyes.

Now, from a purely objective, third-person perspective, the creation was not all that wondrous to look at. It did, however, convey an aura of impressiveness because, in spite of Rularx’s ridiculous fawning over his own work, it was actually an impressive technological feat. Rularx had managed to take the prototype Time Dilation Accelerator and hook it up to a device that amplified the dimensional fluxes it created, as well as a larger flux projection unit. The projected portal would encompass the width of the island, and motors hooked up to the projector would run it over the length of the land to transport it to any location Rularx desired.

Rularx spread his wings to do a final construction check. The massive, cannon-like device was mounted to the former roof of the fortress, inside a massive dome that Rularx had crated just to house the machine. The dome made his fortress stand out wasn’t going for stealth. He saw no need. He was a Makuta. He was going for shock and awe.

Rularx planned to use the machine very soon, just to try it out. He descended slowly and hovered in front of the control panel. Pressing a switch, he opened a mechanized hatch and revealed the electronic panel.

Rularx was just about to punch in the activation code when he received a mental message from Dastrox, which had been installed with the ability to communicate with Rularx telepathically. Master, the robot announced, the fortress is under attack, and has been for fifteen minutes.

Rularx responded, Why was I not informed earlier?

Dastrox was quick to respond, for it remembered immediately. Recapar informed this unit that its master was already aware of the attack.

Rularx snarled, then telepathically flashed back, I will discuss that with Recapar and Ikirro later.

Yes, master, Dastrox agreed.

Rularx used telepathy to pinpoint the robot’s location and teleport to it. “What’d I miss?” he inquired upon arrival.

Dastrox, standing on the edge of one of the fortress’s exposed walls, pointed to a skirmish that was occurring between a newly arrived army of Toa and Toa-like beings and Rularx’s fortress’s frontal guards. If not for the advantage of having the high ground, the Makuta’s guards would have been overwhelmed by now. “Fortress guards are holding, but are likely to fall shortly,” Dastrox stated in a monotone voice. “Primary military force has not yet been deployed, but is ready for departure. Elite trooper Recapar has proven his value quite effectively.”

Rularx, alighting to the roof next to his operative, glanced around, confused. “Where is Ikirro the Mighty Mindless One? It’s not like him to miss a fight.”

Dastrox nodded and faced his master in an attentive stance. “This unit reports that Makuta Ikirro has been displaying behavior patterns that do not match records of the subject’s previous behaviors. Subject has been displaying lack of willingness to command his operatives and an unusual propensity to spend long periods in solitude.”

Rularx’s mouth flattened into a thoughtful line. “I give you permission to act as field commander for the time being, Dastrox.”

“Yes, master,” the robot replied. Rularx reached onto its back and found the large, numbered dial that he had built into it and rotated from the displayed number two until the number five was displayed at the top of the dial. This was Rularx essentially kicking the robot up a few notches. With each increasing number, the robot became more formidable and combat-worthy. With six possible settings, Dastrox was now at its penultimate battle capacity.

Dastrox whirled and saluted to Rularx with a new vigor to its motions. “This unit will perform faithfully, master Makuta.”

Rularx smiled. “I know you will. Now show those unfortunates down there how much attacking a Makuta base will affect their life expectancy.” With Dastrox immediately leaping down off the roof to fulfill its duty, Rularx scanned the island for Ikirro. He found that his brother still had his constant mental shield in place, but Rularx was still able to pinpoint Ikirro’s location and teleport to him.

Ikirro had not been far off. He was situated on a lower cliff, looking up at the battle. He seemed to be torn between whether or not to join it. What Ikirro needed at that moment was someone to bolster his spirits and get him back on course, Rularx was sure. The problem was, Rularx didn’t care what Ikirro needed. Rularx wanted Ikirro on the field. He was wasting his vast power staring dramatically at the battle when he could be joining it. Rularx had no intention of letting this be a day of defeat for the Makuta.

“Ikirro!” Rularx admonished. “What seems to be your problem? Can’t you see that we’re at war again?”

Ikirro nodded with uncharacteristic patience for Rularx’s berating tone. “Yes, Rularx. I see that quite clearly.”

Rularx folded his arms and snorted. “Well, is your duty not clear, then? Do I need to be the driven, focused one? My word, that would be a change!”

Ikirro lowered his gaze to the mountainside below the battle. “I will make my own choices on my own time, Rularx.”

Rularx smiled in an intellectually predatory way. He had Ikirro cornered verbally, and he was going to let his fellow Makuta know it. “And what of the Plan? Is timing your choice to make? While you stand idle, this battle could be lost. Why, with the morale from a third successive victory, this Order of Altronia could be unstoppable. They could spell the end of the Brotherhood and it would be on your head. What do you say to that, brother?”

Ikirro’s head darted toward Rularx. He advanced slowly. “I am pondering things of potentially greater importance than any single battle’s outcome. I would advise you to leave me in peace, if you value staying a single one.”

Rularx shook his head. “Brother, we can’t do that mock battle right now. We have a war to fight.”

Ikirro’s face distorted to an expression of pure rage. The ancient warrior thrust his shield outward with the speed of lightning and pinned Rularx to the cliffside with it. “You ask if my duty was unclear; I ask was my response unclear!?” Ikirro raged. “I want nothing to do with you, you infuriating pile of animated rubbish! Get out of my sight! Go on and prove your worth by winning this battle without me, if you indeed can!”

Rularx smiled. “I always knew that I could. I just wanted to do it the simple way. Farewell, Ikirro, my ever-vicious brother.” With that he was gone in a dull flash of teleportation.

Rularx went about assuming command, and the Order of Altronia forces under Faxhuun’s command pushed with all their might toward Rularx’s fortress. It was a classic scene in a familiar place. It was another battle, another similar situation, another potential devastating defeat. The conflict had moved to a new land for a time, but ultimately it came around again to its birthplace.

A cycle was ending. The path of conflict had made almost a full circle, and that circle was coming to a close. The endpoint was in dispute, and the one to occupy that place would have prevailed over the circle of conflict as a whole. As both sides rushed to finish the path in their favor, Crystal Island lapsed into an overcast afternoon, appropriately accompanying the gray mood that surrounded the combatants.